The Shaman of the Whills
by ForceForGood
Summary: Qui-Gon Jinn goes on a quest to find the mysterious Ancient Order of the Whills, keepers of the secret to immortality - but young Obi-Wan Kenobi will make a disturbing discovery of his own. Largely pre-TPM, but touches on post-ROTS. Now complete - enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** The Shaman of the Whills

**Description:** Qui-Gon Jinn goes on a quest to find the mysterious Ancient Order of the Whills, keepers of the secret to immortality.

**Author:** ForceForGood

**Genre:** Drama

**Characters:** Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the rights to Star Wars and I write for fun, not profit.

**Author's note:** Don't let the prologue fool you. This story is from Obi-Wan's POV!

**Prologue**

"Father?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have a drink of water?"

Luke Skywalker paused in the act of switching off the light in his son's bedroom.

"You already had a drink of water, Ben. Lay down. It's time to sleep now."

"But I'm _cold_."

Luke sighed, but he crossed over to the closet and got another blanket down from the shelf.

"Father, who was that man who came to see you today?" Ben asked as Luke spread the blanket over him. "The Force was very strong with him, I could feel it. Is he going to be one of your Jedi?"

"No, Ben. He's already in another Order. In fact, he's the head of his Order."

"Then how come he came to see you?"

"He wanted to give me a book."

"What's a book? Can I see it?"

"It's a record, like a holocron, only it's just words on flimsi or paper."

"No pictures?" Ben asked in disappointment.

"This one does have pictures, on some of the pages, but they don't move."

"Can I see one?"

Luke hesitated. "I suppose. Just for a minute. And then you must go to sleep, or I'll get in trouble with your mother. It's far too late for a 6-year-old boy to be still awake."

Luke left the room and returned a few moments later with a large, thick book with blue covers and gilded edges. He set it gently on Ben's lap. "Be careful with this, son. It's very valuable."

"It's heavy!" Ben said in surprise. "_The Journal of the Whills_," he read slowly, tracing the words on the cover with his finger.

"There have been many journals of the Whills," Luke said. "This volume was written before I was born. At least, the beginning was."

Ben opened the book to the middle and began to flip through the pages, looking for pictures.

"Wizard!" he said. "Look at this one, Father!"

Together they looked at the sketch. It depicted an enormous droid stalking forward, brandishing a lightsaber in each of its four hands, malice gleaming in its yellow eyes. _Was_ it a droid? _Those eyes look alive_, Ben thought with a shudder.

In the foreground, a man in white stood facing the droid, a single blue lightsaber ignited in his hand. He was dwarfed by his foe, surrounded by its whirling blades, but he was leaning forward boldly, about to strike.

"Look, a Jedi!" Ben said. "Who is he?"

"He's the hero of this book," Luke said.

"Will you read this part to me?" Ben asked eagerly.

"Yes, son, but not tonight. You need to go to sleep now."

Ben knew better than to argue with his father. "Promise you won't forget?"

Luke ruffled Ben's hair. "I promise. I'm eager to read it myself. Much of this story is new to me, too." He took the book from Ben's hands and switched off the light.

"Good night, Ben."

* * *

**Chapter 1**

"Master?"

"Yes?"

"I'm hungry."

"I know."

"You do?"

"You told me that 10 minutes ago, Padawan."

"Oh."

Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi clambered over a moss-covered log, both panting in the oppressive heat. Qui-Gon continued walking in front so he could beat through the underbrush and make a path for his more slender apprentice.

"Well then, I'm _still_ hungry," Obi-Wan clarified.

Qui-Gon parted a heavy curtain of vines that hung from gnarled branches overhead, and held them to the side so Obi-Wan could pass. "You're a 15-year-old boy, Obi-Wan. I think it's safe to assume you will _always_ be 'still hungry.'"

With that, Qui-Gon seemed to think the conversation was over, and continued wading through the thick undergrowth. Obi-Wan followed him with a sigh, pulling his damp tunic away from his sweaty back in a futile attempt to find some relief from the heat. He'd wanted to take his tunic off completely, but Qui-Gon said no, he'd be sure to get a sunburn. Obi-Wan also suspected Qui-Gon didn't think it was proper for a Jedi to run around half-dressed. Not that it mattered here. There was no sentient life, besides themselves, on the entire continent. The people of Guatama had carefully preserved it for the native wildlife.

"It's just that it's been a long time since breakfast," Obi-Wan persisted. "And I'm tired of eating protein pellets. They don't fill me up."

His Master suddenly froze in place, and Obi-Wan skidded to a stop to avoid running into his back. He cringed, waiting for Qui-Gon to turn around and lecture him about how Jedi were not supposed to complain.

But Qui-Gon just stood there with his eyes fixed vacantly into the middle distance. Obi-Wan thought it was a good thing the Guatamans weren't here to see his Master now. His tunic was sweat-stained and his brown trousers were coated with bits of plant material, his long brown hair was mussed and half-escaping its tie from his exertions, and he looked like he was listening to voices no one else could hear. Like a madman. Obi-Wan hastily slammed his mental shields into place, hoping Qui-Gon wasn't focusing on him closely enough to sense his apprentice's inner impudence.

He needn't have worried. Whatever it was Qui-Gon was focusing on, it wasn't Obi-Wan.

"Do you sense it now, Padawan?" he murmured.

"No, Master."

Qui-Gon sighed, and then his vision cleared. "Come," he said to Obi-Wan, and they tromped on through the jungle as if nothing had happened.

_This sure is a lot of trouble to go to, just to see a pile of rubble,_ Obi-Wan grumbled to himself.

* * *

It had taken Qui-Gon nearly two weeks to convince the planet's government and religious leaders to let them travel here to the most sacred location on Guatama. Obi-Wan had spent many dull hours in the stateroom of Guatama's capital city while they were being interviewed, staring at the globe displayed there and focusing on the small, roundish continent located precisely on the equator, wondering what it was about the place that fascinated his Master so much.

Obi-Wan had been sleeping peacefully, en route back home to Coruscant after the successful completion of a mission, when the jolt of the ship exiting hyperspace awoke him. Obi-Wan had sat up, rubbing his eyes, and looked out the viewport to see, not Coruscant's bright lights and bustling traffic lanes, but a small blue-and-green planet floating serenely in the inky black space. A few moments later, Qui-Gon knocked on his door and told him to get dressed.

On the way down to the surface, his Master had refused to answer any questions about how or why they'd ended up there. Obi-Wan had snuck a look at the star charts and discovered ... nothing at all at their position. It was an uncharted world.

It turned out that the Guatamans preferred it that way. Obi-Wan had rarely met such reclusive and suspicious beings. When Qui-Gon asked them if he could visit the nature preserve, they had immediately begun to interrogate him. Oddly, the Guatamans never asked _why_ the Jedi wanted to go there. But they did ask them many other questions, in every subject in the galaxy, it seemed. Galactic history. Engineering. Politics. Literature. Economics. Philosophy. Mathematics. Obi-Wan was impishly delighted to discover Qui-Gon had no head for math at all. He'd ended up answering most of those questions himself.

Still, Obi-Wan emphatically wished he knew what the point of all of it was. As they were tested day after day, Obi-Wan could sense even his Master growing impatient. Once, he thought Qui-Gon was subtly trying to influence one of the questioners to wrap up the testing and take them to the preserve, but she merely gazed steadily at Qui-Gon and said, "I am Guataman. Mind tricks don't work on me - only knowledge."

"She knew exactly what I was trying to do," Qui-Gon said to Obi-Wan during a break in the interviews. "There certainly are an unusual number of Force-sensitives on Guatama."

"But none to the degree the Jedi are," Obi-Wan said.

"Yes, and that makes me wonder..." Qui-Gon trailed off.

"Master, what are the Guatamans _really_ trying to find out from us?" Obi-Wan asked. "I have a feeling they don't really care how many facts we can recite."

Qui-Gon looked pleasantly surprised. "A year ago, you would not have caught onto that so quickly."

Obi-Wan bowed in gratitude for the compliment.

"What do _you_ think they are trying to accomplish, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan thought about it. "Perhaps they want to try our patience, to prove how much we want to see their preserve. Or they just want to see whether we value knowledge in general. Except... did you see that cleric's face, when he asked us what a bongo was? He was actually _pleased _when you didn't know."

"Or he was pleased that I was able to admit I didn't know," Qui-Gon said. "Knowing the limits of your knowledge is the beginning of wisdom."

"What _is_ a bongo?" Obi-Wan murmured to himself. "I'll have to remember to look that up when we get back home."

"You may be able to look it up here, if they ever grant us permission," Qui-Gon said. "I was looking at a map of their capital city this morning. They have libraries on virtually every corner, extensive ones. This planet must hold more information than any person could learn in a lifetime."

At last the Guatamans had grudgingly agreed to permit the Jedi to travel to the equatorial continent, and it was only after they were dropped off on the pristine white beach, framed by a verdant green jungle, that Obi-Wan gathered the courage to ask Qui-Gon what exactly they were doing there.

"We're going to look at some ruins," Qui-Gon said.

"We're going to go _sightseeing_?" Obi-Wan asked in disbelief.

"Not just sightseeing. There's something about this place," Qui-Gon murmured softly, looking ahead to the lush green land in the distance ahead of them. "I sense..."

"What, Master?" Obi-Wan asked when Qui-Gon trailed off into a thoughtful silence. He didn't sense anything unusual.

"Let's go see for ourselves," Qui-Gon said.

* * *

So here Obi-Wan was, trekking through the jungle looking for the ancient ruins of some long-gone Guataman civilization, annoyed that Qui-Gon wouldn't let him use his lightsaber to hack through the prolific vegetation that constantly tripped him up and whipped his face as he walked.

"This place is strong in the Living Force, Padawan," Qui-Gon had said. "It would not tolerate the needless destruction of life, even on a small scale."

Obi-Wan's stomach growled.

"I've never seen any of these plants before, Master," he said.

"Mmm hmm," Qui-Gon said absently.

"Do you think any of them are edible?"

Most adults would have let out an exasperated sigh at this point, Obi-Wan knew, but not Qui-Gon.

"Obi-Wan, you know the Jedi aren't the only ones who devote themselves to the study of the Force, I hope?" he asked his Padawan.

Obi-Wan knew his Master was just trying to distract him from his hunger, but he decided to play along.

"I've heard of a few others," Obi-Wan said. "Like the Potentium. But none have ever been as wise or powerful as the Jedi Order."

Qui-Gon laughed shortly. "Many in our Order would agree with you. But I do not.

"Another Order once existed, one that amassed more wisdom than is stored in the Jedi Archives even today," Qui-Gon continued. "And not just knowledge of the ways of the Force - although they were unrivaled in that - but also the histories of all the known worlds in the galaxy, for many thousands of years before you and I were born. Much of the galactic history taught to you when you were a child was written by them, although not many remember to credit them anymore."

"Why not?"

"Because they disappeared. New volumes of the Journal of the Whills used to appear from time to time in libraries all over the galaxy, but one day long ago, they simply stopped coming. No one ever knew why."

"Didn't someone go check on them? Maybe there was a natural disaster or something."

"No one knew where their homeworld was. They were a secretive Order, one that preferred pursuing knowledge directly through the Force, rather than by interacting with other beings."

"Xenophobes. Like the Guatamans," Obi-Wan said.

"Strikingly like the Guatamans, don't you think?"

Obi-Wan was taken aback. "Master, you can't tell me ... you don't think that _this_ is where the Order of the - whatever - came from?"

"The Ancient Order of the Whills, Padawan. And I think it is a distinct possibility."

"But..." Obi-Wan's mind raced with the possibilities. "Even if that were true, you said we were here to see ruins. So if they lived here once, they must be long gone. Why are we going there, then?"

"Aren't you curious to see the place for yourself, Padawan?"

"I guess," Obi-Wan said doubtfully.

A silence fell between them once more. Determined to keep his mind off food, Obi-Wan decided to stretch out with his senses and see what he could learn about this place for himself. Clearly, Qui-Gon was not telling him everything he knew.

A few minutes later, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Master," he said. "I feel it now, too."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. Chapter 2

**charliebrown1234: **I know what you mean - I was shocked when I searched several fanfic sites for stories about the Whills, and found nothing at all! It has so much scope for the imagination. I hope you enjoy what I came up with. And yes, the monster was Grievous!**  
**

**gurnius:** Your reviews are so detailed and helpful to this writer! Thank you for the wonderful compliments.

**Chapter 2**

Qui-Gon folded his arms and ducked his chin down in what Obi-Wan recognized as his "teaching pose." "Tell me what you sense, Padawan."

"Nothing at all," Obi-Wan said. "We're surrounded by plants and animals of all kinds. The Living Force should be flowing all around us. But everything feels... strangely blank. What does it mean, Master?"

"I'm not sure," Qui-Gon admitted.

Obi-Wan felt uneasy. _Could it the Dark Side_? he wondered.

But this lack of sensation was not what he had experienced when they had fought the Dark Jedi Xanatos a year ago. Then, it had been rolling, oily black waves of negative energy that choked his senses. This was simply... a void.

"We'd better keep moving," Qui-Gon said. "I have a feeling we'll find out, sooner or later."

They pressed on, more warily now. They could not rely on the Force to warn them of danger. Instead, they used their eyes and ears to watch for anything unusual. After another kilometer or so, they noticed a change in the vegetation. Mixed in with the lush jungle growth were enormous trees that looked like they would be better suited to growing on a savanna. Qui-Gon stopped to inspect one closely. Abruptly, he took off the water pack he had slung across his chest and began to climb the tree. Obi-Wan stayed on the ground to stand guard.

"Come up and see this, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon called down softly a minute later.

Obi-Wan climbed up nimbly and balanced himself carefully on a branch next to Qui-Gon's. His eyes followed his Master's pointing finger up until he saw four creatures, each about a foot long, crouching on a branch near the trunk of the tree.

They were lizard-like, with a second pair of small eyes set close behind their primary eyes, and sparse tufts of white hair on top of their heads. The creatures were motionless, their claws sunk deep into the tree, black eyes glistening as they looked down at the Jedi. Obi-Wan felt an involuntary shudder move down his spine. Although he saw them with his eyes, according to his Jedi senses they simply did not exist.

He had never seen one in person before, but he knew what they were. The Jedi had named the second form of lightsaber combat - Makashi, or The Way of the Ysalamiri - after them, and admired them greatly. One of only a handful of non-sentient Force-sensitive creatures in the galaxy, the Ysalamiri evaded the notice of predators by generating a Force-neutral bubble. The two Jedi had found the source of their Force-blindness.

But it was said Ysalamiri could only be found on their native planet of Myrkr, clinging to the Olbio trees that gave them nourishment.

"I thought it was impossible to detach a Ysalamiri from its Olbio tree without killing it," Obi-Wan whispered.

"These _are_ Olbio trees," Qui-Gon said.

"I thought it was impossible to transplant Olbio trees without killing them."

"I thought so, too. Whoever brought them here must have been a skilled gardener."

They watched the Ysalamiri curiously for a while, but then Obi-Wan thought more about what his Master had just said.

"Do you think there might be a garden somewhere nearby?" he said hopefully.

Qui-Gon closed his eyes for a moment, but when he opened them again, his expression was as serene as ever. "Obi-Wan. We will stop to eat when we get to the ruins, but not a moment before."

"Promise?"

"Yes," Qui-Gon said patiently as he began to climb back down the tree. "I promise."

They journeyed on. After they had gone several miles, they began to feel the effects of the Ysalamiri diminish. Their Force-senses gradually returned, and with them, the life-forces of the jungle beat upon them like waves on a beach.

The farther they walked, the more the Living Force grew in intensity. It grew until it felt more like a riptide, threatening to sweep them out of their _selves_ entirely. Obi-Wan's head was swimming from trying to resist the sheer force of the energies crashing into him.

"Stop fighting it," Qui-Gon said. "Let it all in." Obi-Wan tried to obey, but he was nervous. If he lost his _self_, what would be left?

But he trusted Qui-Gon, and bit by bit he let the Living Force rush through him unchecked. To his relief, he found that he was still himself - that by surrendering to the flood, he was not losing his self, but rather growing larger than himself. The discomfort subsided, and Obi-Wan felt his mind clear.

The vegetation seemed to be clearing, too. There were gaps of blue sky visible through the trees ahead. A minute later, they passed under the last of the trees and found themselves standing at the top of a precipice. Obi-Wan leaned over the edge and saw the bottom of the cliff was several hundred feet down.

In the far distance, another mile at least, a grassy mound rose into the air, and in the afternoon sun they could clearly see it was crowned with the ruins of a stone structure.

Qui-Gon smiled with satisfaction. "This is it," he said. "Now, we just need to find a way down." He reached down and tested one of the many thick vines that hung over the edge of the cliff and crisscrossed its surface. "I think these are strong enough to hold our weight. I'll go down first."

"Wait, Master! Look at that!" Excited, Obi-Wan pointed to a spot about 15 feet down, where an enormous brown bird had just landed on the sheer rock face by tangling one foot precariously in the vines. It held a fat, furry animal of some kind in its hooked beak, and as they watched the bird pinned the carcass against the rock with its free foot and busied itself with tearing hunks of flesh off and swallowing them whole.

"It's huge. It must have a wingspan of ten feet," Obi-Wan whispered. "And look at the striping on its chest. Isn't it beautiful?"

"It is," Qui-Gon agreed. Together, they remained still and watched in silence as the bird ate. After a few minutes, Obo-Wan noticed a gray spider about the size of his hand crawling on the rock face near the giant bird. The bird noticed the spider too, and paused in its meal to fix one fierce golden eye on the newcomer.

"Dessert is served," Obi-Wan said, grinning.

Abruptly, the spider scurried forward and seemed to fasten itself to the bird's foot where it still gripped the vines. Squawking loudly in protest, the bird released the vines and flapped a short distance away from the cliff face, shaking off the spider, which plummeted down to a narrow ledge below.

The bird squawked again, high and shrill. Something was wrong with it. It had dropped the remains of its meal, and was flapping frantically, awkwardly, unable to keep itself upright in the air. After a few moments' struggle, it dropped like a stone onto the ledge below, and lay there motionless.

"Poison..." Qui-Gon murmured. "The hunter becomes the hunted."

Feeling vaguely disturbed, Obi-Wan leaned over the edge of the cliff to get a better look, and thought he saw the bird move. Then he realized he was actually seeing the gray spider crawl across its feathered belly.

The next instant, there were more spiders than Obi-Wan could count, swarming over the bird's carcass and aggressively burrowing down through its feathers, chewing into its flesh hungrily. Obi-Wan could swear he could hear the clicking of their mandibles from where he stood at the top of the cliff.

He felt the blood drain from his face.

"You know what, Master?" he said faintly. "I think we have a good enough view of the ruins from right here."

Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow at him. "Giving up so easily?" he asked. "I thought you were in a hurry to get there so we could eat."

Obi-Wan made a noise of revulsion in the back of his throat. "I'm not hungry anymore. And I don't like spiders."

"Hmmmm." Qui-Gon thought for a moment, then shrugged. "You're right. It's not worth getting poisoned over. Let's go home." He turned and strode back into the jungle.

Obi-Wan stood there, confused. He leaned back over the edge of the cliff and saw the spiders had already eaten their way down to the bones of the bird. They were disappearing now into little crevices all over the rock face to await the arrival of their next victims. If he were to climb down the cliff, he would have to put his hands and feet into those very same crevices. Obi-Wan shuddered. One bite was all it would take...

And yet... He squinted his eyes and looked out at the ruins on the distant mound. The Ancient Order of the Whills, the keepers of the greatest repository of wisdom in the galaxy... and it was almost within their reach...

"Master, wait!" he called. "Wait!"

Qui-Gon reappeared through the trees. "Yes, Padawan?"

Obi-Wan sighed. "I give up. You win. Let's keep going."

"And how do you propose we defeat a swarm of vicious meat-eating spiders while clinging one-handed to the side of a cliff?" Qui-Gon asked, joining him at the edge again. In his "teaching pose" again, of course.

"We shouldn't kill needlessly," Ob-Wan said. "Not here, not without breaking the harmony of the Living Force. We'll just have to... _influence_ them to ignore us."

"Their minds are very small. It won't be easy," Qui-Gon said. "Do you think you can do that?"

_"I'll try"_ was what he wanted to say, but he knew what Yoda-ish response that would trigger, so instead he said simply: "Yes."

He willed himself to believe his own words as Qui-Gon slowly but confidently began to climb down. Releasing his fear into the Force, Obi-Wan swung his legs over the edge and concentrated on radiating feelings of peace and contentment toward the spiders that were now out of his sight, though definitely not out of mind. Still, he could not resist thinking one last self-indulgent thought:

_Why did it have to be spiders?_

**TO BE CONTINUED**

_* I'm much too proud to beg for reviews. So I won't. Instead, I'll just casually mention in passing how much I enjoy getting them. ;-)  
_


	3. Chapter 3

**He who Dreams**: I will! The creative juices are really flowing for this one.

**Valairy Scot**: Thanks, it's a lot of fun to write low-angst Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan adventures! And don't worry, the spider part is almost over. :)

**Gurnius**: I'm glad to hear that, I worried that the pacing might be too slow. I love reading your guesses about my story! You'll soon find out.

**charliebrown1234**: Yeah, I gave _myself_ the willies writing about the spiders!

**Wawoot**: It's too bad George Lucas had to drop the idea of the Whills in his later drafts of Star Wars, because they fascinate me!

**Chapter 3**

"You overdid it," Qui-Gon said.

Obi-Wan ignored this comment, as a far more urgent matter was pressing on his mind than analyzing his own misguided attempts to radiate peace and contentment toward a pack of flesh-eating spiders as he descended a cliff of dizzying heights. What he wanted to do more than anything right now was to dive screaming into the nearest river. Instead, he exercised as much control as he could muster, and slowly and carefully began to take off his tunic. Qui-Gon frowned disapprovingly.

"You were supposed to encourage them to _ignore_ you, Padawan, not _like_ you."

"Master, can we discuss this later, please?" Obi-Wan's voice broke on the last word, heaping further embarrassment on an already embarrassing situation. The tunic was off now - thank the Force! - revealing the half-dozen or so spiders who, influenced through the Force by Obi-Wan, had enjoyed his calming presence so much that they decided to crawl under his clothing and snuggle right up against his skin as he climbed down the cliff.

"No, don't flick them off!" Qui-Gon said, as Obi-Wan moved to do just that. "Patience, Padawan. Let me help."

Obi-Wan's heart was racing at an abnormal rate, but he forced himself to hold still as Qui-Gon concentrated his will on the spiders' tiny minds.

It took less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity; Obi-Wan could sense Qui-Gon's gentle Force-suggestions to the spiders that there was some tasty food to be found back up at the top of the cliff, and one by one the creatures crawled down Obi-Wan's body - their legs producing an agony of ticklish sensations on his bare skin - and began scaling the rock face.

Obi-Wan's shoulders sagged with relief.

"One more," Qui-Gon said. Obi-Wan tensed again, and the last spider crawled out of his pant leg and followed its companions.

"Is that all of them?" Obi-Wan asked, rooted to the spot.

"That's all." Qui-Gon smiled. "Ready to move on?"

_Why did it have to be spiders? _Obi-Wan sighed deeply, and wiped the sweat off his brow. "Yes, Master."

The journey seemed much easier now. Before, the tangle of bushes and vines had formed a complex series of obstacles to navigate. Here, it seemed as though the plant life grew in such a way as to let them pass almost effortlessly. The last mile went by quickly, and soon they found themselves at the base of the mound, looking at a set of stairs formed by flat stones set into the ground, progressing upwards in an orderly fashion all the way to the top.

"Master, I've been thinking," Obi-Wan said as they began to climb the stairs. "There's something I don't understand. The Guatamans said they created this preserve to protect the native wildlife. Ysalamiri, and their Oblio trees, are clearly not native. Why would they go to so much trouble to bring them here? What did they have to gain by it?"

"A very good question," Qui-Gon said, but once again he seemed distracted, and Obi-Wan was hesitant to interrupt his thoughts.

They crested the hill and surveyed the ruins. Much of the outer wall of the structure had crumbled, leaving big blocks of white stone on the ground jumbled together with vines and shrubs, and little rodents scampering around everywhere. However, many of the inner walls were nearly intact, and tall enough to block their view of the other side of the mound-top.

"We should start by looking for the center of the structure first, I think," Qui-Gon said, half to himself.

Obi-Wan spoke up timidly: "I thought we were going to..."

"Look for something to eat, yes," Qui-Gon said. "You go ahead, Obi-Wan. I want to look around a bit first."

Obi-Wan had a sudden wild urge to hug Qui-Gon, but he tamped it down quickly. He was much too old now to act in such an undignified way.

"Thank you, Master," he said calmly and quietly - before tearing off to skirt the edges of the ruins, heading east. He could just see a grove of trees a short distance that way, and flocks of birds were fluttering around it energetically, chirping musically. Hopefully that meant they'd found a food source, and hopefully it was something he could eat, too.

When he reached the grove, he stopped to catch his breath and study the nearest tree. The trunk was extremely thick, and a multitude of limbs extended from its crown. The shortest branches were at the top and stood stiffly straight up into the air - rather like his own Padawan haircut - and the longer, thinner branches draped gracefully down to the ground, swaying gently in the breeze.

Most importantly of all, there were round objects hanging all over the branches. Obi-Wan moved closer and saw that most of them were small and green - probably not ripe - but a few of the fruits hanging closest to the ground were plump and red.

Obi-Wan grabbed a branch and inspected the fruit. The birds had been at them. Many were pecked and torn, with insects buzzing around the gashes in the skin. He managed to find one that was relatively unscathed, though, so he got brave, picked it, and took a bite.

The fruit had a hard shell that was difficult to bite through, but the inside was unexpectedly soft and juicy. It tasted wonderful. As soon as it was gone, he looked around for another one. The biggest ones were closest to the ground, so he knelt down.

That was when he realized that the long, flexible branches didn't brush the ground - they were growing down _into_ the ground. He could see one of the fattest, reddest fruits on this branch was already half-burrowed down into the dirt.

"Curious," he said under his breath.

Obi-Wan ran back to where he'd left Qui-Gon, but his Master had already disappeared into the ruins.

"Master, come look at this!" he called out, although he was unsure Qui-Gon was close enough to hear. "I found lunch, but I've never seen anything like it!"

Obi-Wan ran back around to the tree and looked at it again. A thought had just occurred to him. If he dug around where a branch delved into the ground, would he find even bigger and better fruits under the surface? He gave one branch an experimental tug.

Nothing happened. It was firmly stuck. He pulled harder, bracing with his feet. The branch started to come up, bringing big clumps of dirt with it.

Obi-Wan had just enough time to register the satisfying size of the fruits coming up out of the ground when the world suddenly dropped out from under his feet.

Desperately, he grabbed at the branch to catch himself, but his hands slipped off and he plummeted down into the hole, along with chunks of dirt and rock, and cried out as he hit the bottom, hard.

"Obi-Wan?" he heard Qui-Gon calling in the distance. "Obi-Wan!"

He very much wanted to answer his Master, but the fall had knocked the wind out of him, and all he could do was lay there gasping like a fish and choking on all the dust in the air.

Gradually, he became aware he was laying on a hard surface that was flat except for the hard-shelled fruit under his back he'd had the misfortune to land on. That was going to leave a bruise.

As the cloud of dust slowly settled, he got a better look at his surroundings. The hole he had fallen into was surprisingly large - more like a cave, actually. In the dim light down here he couldn't even see its limits. All he could see was that the massive trunks of the trees extended below the ground, too, forming natural pillars that held up the dirt ceiling above. Roots stretched out horizontally along the ceiling in multiple directions, creating a latticework of supports. In the gaps between the roots, many of the fruit-bearing branches emerged from the ceiling and dangled down like ropes, some of them even brushing the bottom of the cavern. It was through one of these gaps in the lattice that he had fallen.

He also couldn't help but notice that the pulse of the Living Force was even stronger down here than it had been on the surface. Were these strange trees the source? Or were they drawn to the source as well? Was that why they grew underground as well as skyward?

Obi-Wan was still trying to catch his breath when he heard Qui-Gon's footsteps approach above. He propped himself up painfully on one elbow.

Just then, Obi-Wan heard a soft scuffing sound behind him. Suddenly alert, he scrambled to his feet and spun around, hand going instinctively to his belt where his lightsaber was clipped. A light was approaching from the depths of the cave.

"Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon called, his head blocking the sunlight streaming down from the top of the hole.

"Something's coming, Master!" He could hear Qui-Gon above begin to maneuver himself down into the hole, and more dirt came tumbling down.

Obi-Wan went down into a defensive crouch as the light bobbed toward him. A moment later, and he could see it was a lantern. A few more moments later, and he saw who was holding it: a human boy with dark curly hair cropped close to his head. He stopped a few feet away from Obi-Wan and looked at him composedly.

"Salbete," the boy said. "Salbete en horten il Whills."

"What did you say?" Obi-Wan asked, not putting down his guard.

Qui-Gon dropped down next to Obi-Wan, surprisingly lightly for a man his size. The boy looked at him curiously, then took a big bite out of a juicy red fruit he held in his other hand and chewed deliberately.

"Greetings," he said after he swallowed, speaking in Basic this time. "Welcome to the Sanctuary of the Whills."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	4. Chapter 4

**Wawoot**: I agree. The spiders have amazingly good taste in their choice of snugglees. :)

**Valairy Scot:** It just goes to show, you really should look before you ... eat.

**Obi-Qui**: It seems like 15-year-olds boys never want to admit they want hugs - but I bet they all do!

**Obiwan456**: Thank you for your comments! Your curiosity will soon be satisfied. :)

**Chapter 4**

_The Sanctuary of the Whills?_ Obi-Wan's head was spinning. Was this boy mad? Or had the Ancient Order of the Whills somehow continued to exist all this time, quietly hidden underground on an uncharted planet, just waiting for Qui-Gon to come discover it?

"Come on, we'd better go before more of the ceiling comes down," the boy said. "And the Keeper will be wondering what happened to you."

"We were expected?" Qui-Gon asked.

The boy began to lead them through the dark cavern, holding the lamp high so they wouldn't bump into the tree trunks or dangling fruit branches.

"Yes, we felt you coming as soon as you got past the security perimeter. But I think Elivo expected you to come through the front door. We're very good at sensing the _now_, but we're lousy at foreseeing the future." The boy laughed. "You're lucky I slipped away to get a snack and heard you fall in."

"The security perimeter - the Ysalamiri, you mean?" Obi-Wan asked.

"Right. As I'm sure you've noticed, we put out a rather powerful Force-signature, and we have to neutralize it somehow, so we aren't found. Except by the right people, of course." Obi-Wan could barely see the boy's face in the dim light, but thought he might have just winked at them.

Obi-Wan became aware that they were walking toward another light source. Soon, he could see that it was sunlight shining between the trunks of the underground trees. They emerged through an archway and found themselves on a balcony overlooking the jungle below. Judging from the position of the sun, they were now on the far side of the mound. A few fruit-laden branches dangled in front of them; the grove of trees grew on the surface of the mound just a few feet above their heads. As their guide busied himself with extinguishing the light and hanging it up on a hook, Obi-Wan rested his hands on the elaborately carved wooden railing and looked down.

"Master, look at that!" he exclaimed. Qui-Gon leaned over to look, too.

There was another balcony below theirs. And another, and another, and another. They went down for hundreds of feet, all the way to the base of the mound. They could even see people standing on some of the balconies, looking as small as insects from this height as they hung clothes on the rails to dry.

"Is this a hill, or a city?" Obi-Wan breathed in amazement.

"Depends on if you're looking at the west side, or the east," said the boy from behind them. Turning, Obi-Wan saw now by the bright sunlight that the dark-haired boy was about his own age, and dressed in a simple green robe. "My name is Siddhari, by the way," the boy said. "What's yours?"

"I'm Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan Learner-"

"-Obi-Wan Kenobi!" Siddhari finished excitedly, taking his first good look at Obi-Wan. "By the Force! I never thought I would get to meet you in person!"

"You've heard of me?" Obi-Wan asked, caught off guard.

"Of course. I wrote one of your stories."

Obi-Wan creased his brow in confusion. "Stories?"

Siddhari began walking along the balcony as it gently curved around, following the natural shape of the mound, and gestured for the two Jedi to follow him.

"I was assigned to watch Melida/Daan," he continued. "You were the one who finally stopped the war. I remember it very well, because you worked practically around the clock, and then when you finally _did _sleep, I had to stay up to record it all. I didn't get a decent rest for weeks. Oh, Obi-Wan-" Siddhari suddenly turned serious. "I'm so sorry about your friend, Cerasi. She was one of a kind, wasn't she?"

"Wait, wait a minute - you were one of the Young? You're from Melida/Daan?" Obi-Wan asked, astonished. He could not remember ever seeing Siddhari before in his life.

"Oh, no. I've never been off-planet. None of us have. We prefer to watch from a distance. Here we are."

They had reached a spiral staircase that led up to the surface of the mound and also down to the next level below them. A middle-aged male Chiss, dressed in green robes like Siddhari's, stood waiting for them by the stairs. He stepped forward, a polite smile on his pale blue face.

"Welcome. I am Elivo Nalati, Keeper of the Ancient Order of the Whills," he said, bowing to them.

"Qui-Gon Jinn, and Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon said as the two of them returned the bow. "We belong to the Jedi Order."

"So I see," the monk said, glancing at their lightsaber hilts with a slight expression of distaste. "I have watched many of your Order - you Jedi are always in the thick of it, aren't you? - but I have never had the privilege of meeting one before." He looked at Qui-Gon's lightsaber again, curious. "Why do you carry that? With your mastery of the Force, what need have you of weapons?"

"The galaxy is a dangerous place."

"Then why go out into it? The Force brings knowledge to us."

"Our Order does more than collect knowledge. We also defend the Republic," Qui-Gon said.

Elivo waved his hand impatiently. "A waste of your powers, if you will forgive me. Governments are temporary. The Force is eternal."

"_Temporary_?" Obi-Wan said. "The Republic has stood for 25,000 years!"

"And it could fall tomorrow, little Jedi."

Obi-Wan felt his face flush, more for being called "little" than because Elivo contradicted him. The monk clearly didn't get out enough. If he did, he'd know that the Republic was too powerful to fall.

"What is a Keeper? And what do you mean, you _watch _us?" Qui-Gon asked eagerly, as if he already had an idea what Elivo was talking about. "How do you do it?"

"The Keeper oversees all record-keeping for the Order, Elivo answered. "And we don't watch only the Jedi. And you can come see for yourself, if you like." He glanced at Siddhari, waiting to the side with his hands clasped behind his back. "Siddhari, take the names of our visitors to the Shaman."

Siddhari trotted off obediently along the balcony, but as he passed by the Jedi he pulled something out of a pocket in his robe and unobtrusively slipped it into Obi-Wan's hand with a wink. Obi-Wan looked down, and grinned as he realized it was another ripe red fruit. He took a big bite.

He was beginning to think he would get along with Siddhari very nicely.

Elivo led the Jedi down the spiral staircase for several levels and then through an archway that led back into the interior of the mound. They walked through a maze of rooms. Many were occupied by monks, singly or in pairs, some sitting in meditation, others in the process of recording holocrons.

"Most of the events we view remotely can be handled by one or two monks," Elivo said as they walked. "But for major conflicts, we need more minds to handle the load. We write our histories from the points of view of all participants, not just the victors."

"With so many inhabited systems in the galaxy, how do you choose what to watch?" Qui-Gon asked.

"We know all the patterns," Elivo said simply. "We've been watching the galaxy for tens of thousands of years now. We're familiar with the conditions that indicate when a conflict approaches, and when we spot them, we'll concentrate on that particular place. We haven't missed a major event for thousands of years."

Obi-Wan looked with interest at the monks they passed. The Force rolled off them in orderly waves; they had been well-trained. So that explained why there were no powerful Force-sensitives among the leaders of Guatama. They were all sent here.

Elivo led them into the largest room they'd seen yet, filled with rows of data processers and the subdued chatter of half a dozen monks speaking into holocron recorders. A few others sat apart in silence, deep in meditation.

An enormous viewscreen covered an entire wall at the other end, and three monks were standing in front of it, gently touching the screen with their fingertips. Their motions reminded Obi-Wan of younglings finger-painting on a wall. As a matter of fact, he realized, they essentially _were_ finger-painting - each stroke of their fingertips left a line on the viewscreen, and between the three of them a rough picture was beginning to emerge.

"I'm afraid you missed most of the excitement," Elivo said. "The battle of Galidraad wrapped up just before you arrived, and as you can see there are only a few of us still viewing the aftermath." He gestured to the two meditating monks. "At this point, we try to record the event as quickly as possible, while it's still fresh in our minds."

"You create illustrations, as well as holocrons?" Qui-Gon asked, striding toward the giant viewscreen on the wall for a closer look. Obi-Wan followed him, and saw what the monks there were sketching: a luxurious castle overlooking a snow-covered field.

"We can't send camera droids across space instantaneously," Elivo said wryly, "only our minds. We are all trained in the arts, so we can record images as well as words."

They watched in silence as the artists worked. One sketched out dark shapes scattered all over the snowy field - bodies, Obi-Wan realized with a shudder. Casualties of the battle. Most of the slain were wearing head-to-toe armor, including helmets that completely obscured their faces - and what appeared to be jetpacks on their backs. Another artist was working at the center of the screen, sketching an armored man kneeling in the snow. The bodies were especially thick around him, but these were wearing full-length robes, not armor. Obi-Wan studied one closely and sharply drew in a breath as he saw what she still clutched in her dead hand: a lightsaber hilt.

"Oh, Master!" he exclaimed in dismay. "They were-"

"-Jedi," Qui-Gon finished softly.

"That's one fierce fellow," Elivo said, gesturing to the armored man kneeling in the snow. "Your people disarmed him, but that hardly even slowed him down. He killed six Jedi using nothing but his hands and feet and armored body before he was forced to surrender."

"I've seen armor like that before," Qui-Gon said. "He is a True Mandalorian?"

"_The_ True Mandalorian," Elivo corrected, and his voice was tinged with sorrow. "He was the only survivor."

Obi-Wan saw that the third artist was drawing a robed figure with a dignified bearing facing the captive Mandalorian: a tall Jedi holding an unusual curved-hilt lightsaber, its glowing blue tip hovering dangerously close to the gap between the captive's helmet and breastplate. As Obi-Wan studied the Jedi's lined face, he was surprised to see no expression of grief for his fallen comrades, or triumph for winning the battle, but rather admiration... admiration for his captive?

"My old master," Qui-Gon said.

"Dooku?" Obi-Wan's voice rose in surprise. He had never seen Dooku in person, but he had heard many things about him. How he was one of the most gifted Jedi the Order had seen in many generations. How he had a habit of defying the Council when it suited him - not unlike Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan thought silently, although he sensed that his Master disliked the comparison.

"How is it that your Order is not discovered?" Qui-Gon asked, looking at the sketch of Dooku thoughtfully. "The Ysalamiri guard your borders, but when you are researching, you must send out a Force-beacon strong enough to be felt by those you watch, if they're Force-sensitive... even if they are light-years away. Especially when you're watching a Master as powerful as Dooku."

"He never felt a thing," Elivo said confidently. "We use the Force passively. We merely watch - we never influence. We leave the meddling to the Jedi. Don't you remember all of this, Master Qui-Gon?"

"Remember it?" Qui-Gon said blankly.

"I assume you were once a member of the Whills," Elivo said. "You found your way to our sanctuary so quickly... as though you'd been here before."

"I've been a Jedi all my life," Qui-Gon said. "And I've never set foot on Guatama before."

"Yes, of course, but I mean in one of your previous lives."

Qui-gon's brow furrowed. "My... previous life? I don't understand."

"Can it be you don't remember _any_ of your previous forms?" Elivo said, shocked. "Or are you a new soul? But how could you have become so powerful in your first life?"

Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

"Ah, I think I see," Qui-Gon said. "You believe one person can inhabit different forms in different times?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Elivo said. "Our Order has watched so many beings over time; after a few thousand years of research, we began to see that the same things happened in the same way, over and over again. Oh, they were in different places, and there were small variations, but there came a time when we realized that the beings who lived during one time were remarkably similar to other beings who had lived a lifetime ago, in another place. We began to suspect that they were, in fact, the _same_ beings. Old souls, in new bodies."

_That's crazy,_ Obi-Wan thought, though he had the sense not to say it.

"Do you have any evidence of this?" Qui-Gon asked.

"The cycle of souls is spoken of in our most ancient records," Elivo said. "And many of our Order have had visions of deeds they performed while in their own past forms. I have had them myself. Haven't you had such visions?"

"No."

"Perhaps you've never tried," the monk said.

Qui-Gon looked skeptical, but he deftly changed the subject before Elivo could press the matter. "You stopped updating your journals," he said. "The rest of the galaxy has not heard from your Order for a long time."

"Yes," Elivo said a little sadly. "Once, we were able to discreetly carry our histories to every corner of the galaxy. But now the galaxy has become so crowded. So many beings using the hyperspace lanes, and are constantly exploring, looking for new ones... each time we leave the planet, we risk detection. None of us have left now, for many generations."

The three of them looked up at a movement across the room. It was Siddhari, hovering unobtrusively in the doorway. "What is it?" Elivo asked.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Siddhari said hesitantly. "But the Shaman wishes to see the Jedi right away."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	5. Chapter 5

**Obiwan456**: For the purposes of my story, you are 100% correct! "Jude Watson" is just one of Siddhari's pen names. ;-)

**Valairy Scot**: Elivo is sitting on a high horse, isn't he? Or would that be "on a high bantha" in Star Wars-ese? ;-) One of my goals was to establish that although the Whills are Force-users, they aren't just a twin Order of the Jedi - there are some real philosophical differences.

**Wawoot**: Thank you! And wouldn't it be great if we had the ability, here on Earth, to collect such accurate information for our history books?

**Chapter 5**

Siddhari led them through another maze of corridors and stairs in silence. Obi-Wan was dying to know what Qui-Gon thought of all this. He hung back a little to put some distance between them and Siddhari.

"Master, do you believe in this 'cycle of souls'?" he murmured.

"I don't think anyone can say for sure," Qui-Gon said thoughtfully. "But I have encountered many beings in my travels, all of them unique. So many endless variations. My heart tells me that surely the Force is not reduced to... recycling old material."

"But what about the visions of the Whills? And their ancient records that document this 'cycle of souls'?"

"Visions can be misinterpreted. It could be they are watching the deeds of beings who lived in the past - but that doesn't mean they share souls with them. And ancient records are easily misunderstood."

"But the Masters in the Jedi Temple are always teaching from ancient records. Like the Legend of Nomi Sunrider. She lived 4,000 years ago."

"I suppose it's possible we don't understand our texts as well as we should, either," Qui-Gon said. "After all, we also have the Prophecy of the Chosen One, which predicts the birth of one who will destroy the Sith and bring balance to the Force. But the last of the Sith were destroyed a thousand years ago, by many Jedi working together, not just one. The prophecy never came true."

Obi-Wan guessed they were near the base of the mound by now, judging by the number of staircases they had descended. Siddhari led them down a stone-lined corridor and through an elaborately carved wooden door that stood ajar.

"Here are the Jedi, Shaman, as you requested," he said respectfully.

For a bewildering moment, Obi-Wan thought the room was empty. Then he saw that a translucent green curtain, extending from ceiling to floor, was concealing part of the room. He could see through the curtain just enough to discern a massive tree trunk growing up through the floor and disappearing up into the ceiling. A lantern hung from one of the upper branches, illuminating the vague outline of a humanoid being, enthroned on a natural seat formed by a twist of branches.

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow as he caught the swirls of the Living Force that moved around that outline. It felt like... like...

The best comparison he could come up with was that it felt like being in the presence of Master Yoda. The Force waves emanating from that outline behind the curtain were just as powerful, and yet, different. They were... a different flavor.

"I have been watching you for some time, Qui-Gon Jinn."

Obi-Wan jumped, startled. The Shaman's voice was shaky, cracked. He couldn't see her features at all through the curtain, but she sounded as though she were a hundred years old.

"There are others in your Order who are powerful in the Force," the Shaman said, her outline shifting slightly behind the curtain, "but you... you are truly unique. You are more like us. You have mastered the Living Force. Tell me, does your Order honor you greatly?"

Qui-Gon didn't answer.

"No, of course they don't," the Shaman said after a long moment. She got to her feet slowly, her outline wavering and indistinct behind the curtain. "They do not understand the value of the _now_ as they should. They rely too much on seeing the future. The future is always in motion, and can be clouded by those who devote themselves to the darker currents of the Force. The Jedi Order wastes your gift."

They could see the Shaman's outline as she stepped closer to the curtain, so close that the fabric stirred with her breath as she spoke.

"Our Order has perfected the art of seeing through the eyes of others, even from across the galaxy. With your empathy, Qui-Gon Jinn, you would make a formidable historian. You may remain with us, if you wish. You would be held in great honor here."

Standing in the back of the room, Siddhari shifted his feet, unable to hide his surprise, but Obi-Wan felt as though a rock had been dropped into his stomach. Was this why Qui-Gon had been so determined to find the Whills? Was this his plan all along - to join them, if he could? Qui-Gon's face was as inscrutable as ever. Instinctively, Obi-Wan stepped a bit closer to his Master, so that he stood just behind his elbow.

"I... am honored," Qui-Gon said slowly. "But I feel I must decline."

"I understood that any Jedi may leave the Order if they choose, with no dishonor," the Shaman said. "Is this correct?"

"True. But I have certain... obligations."

"You mean the boy? Surely another in your Order could complete his training."

Obi-Wan held his breath and looked at his Master apprehensively.

"Out of the question," Qui-Gon said, and Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. "The Force led me to him. He is my responsibility."

The Shaman sighed. "If you insist, you may keep him here, at least until his training is complete. I can see he doesn't have your gift, but he doesn't seem entirely hopeless, either. Perhaps, in time, he could learn our ways."

"You are kind to offer, but Obi-Wan doesn't belong here," Qui-Gon said. "He has more to learn from the outside."

"You are a stubborn man," the Shaman said, and there was a hint of amusement in your voice. "I begin to see why you make your superiors uncomfortable. You are unpredictable. A true maverick. Tell me, Master Qui-Gon, if you didn't come here to join us, why are you here?"

"I'm not sure myself," Qui-Gon said. "I've always been fascinated by tales of your Order, but a few years ago, I began to feel nudges from the Force to search for you. Information started to fall into my hands like rain from the sky: whispers, rumors, galactic coordinates. And now, here I am."

"Nothing happens by chance," the Shaman said slowly, thoughtfully. "If you had agreed to stay with us, I intended to teach you the ancient secret of the Shamans."

Obi-Wan heard Siddhari suck in a breath of air behind them, and felt astonishment rolling off the young Whill like a wave.

"I will teach it to you now, nonetheless," the Shaman continued. "Never before have I found one worthy of the knowledge. Perhaps you will have better luck with it than my predecessors - the Shamans who lived before me."

"They failed to master it?" Qui-Gon asked.

"They died," the Shaman said simply.

The curtain parted slightly, and Obi-Wan saw a gnarled hand beckon through the opening. Qui-Gon took a step toward the curtain.

"Master..." Obi-Wan said nervously. Qui-Gon gave him a reassuring glance.

"It's all right, Padawan. I don't sense any danger," he said, and disappeared into the opening. The curtain swished shut behind him. Obi-Wan moved to follow him, but Siddhari suddenly darted up behind him and grabbed his arm.

"She doesn't mean _you_," he said. "Come on, we have to leave."

"Master?" Obi-Wan inexplicably felt as though he were on the verge of panic. He did not want to leave Qui-Gon's side. He could see his Master's outline behind the curtain now, as vague and unreachable as the Shaman. It frightened him.

"Wait for me, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, his voice sounding muted through the fabric. "And don't worry so much."

Reluctantly, Obi-Wan let Siddhari pull him out of the room and into the stone corridor. Siddhari closed the door and firmly turned the lock.

"What's the ancient secret?" Obi-Wan asked him.

"I don't know," Siddhari said. "It's a secret."

"But you know _something_ about it."

"All I know is that it's been passed from Shaman to Shaman for many generations. It's never been taught to someone outside our Order before." Siddhari rested his hand lightly on the locked door, and Obi-Wan thought the boy looked as apprehensive as he felt.

"May the Force be with them both," Siddhari murmured.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	6. Chapter 6

**littlelionluvr**: Thank you. I think the Whills have learned that knowledge is power, and have become cautious about who they give that power to - thus the secrecy.

**Eruwaedhier_Telemnar:** I think the Shaman struggles with the same flaw Qui-Gon has in Episode 1, when he is empathizing so fully with Anakin and his plight that he forgets to be considerate of Obi-Wan's feelings or respectful to the Jedi Council. She's so focused on Qui-Gon that she's doing the same thing. Those strong in the Living Force excel at connecting with individuals, but I've always thought it would be difficult for them to divide that intense focus to include others at the same time. And I'm glad you like Siddhari. :) Thank you for your comments!

**Kelaria**: I agree, Qui-Gon IS awesome! Hey, if you ever find out what the ancient secret is, be sure to let me know what it is!

**Obiwan456 and Valairy Scot**: Well, _we_ know Obi-Wan is nowhere near hopeless, but since he's just a kid the Shaman hasn't seen his amazing skills yet. :-D

**Chapter 6**

Obi-Wan had enough honesty in him to admit that he was bored, sitting alone in a tiny stone room without so much as a window to break up the monotonous gray in front of his eyes.

He knew it was a great honor to learn from the Ancient Order of the Whills, and he was putting his best efforts into the meditation techniques Siddhari had taught him, but even a Jedi had limits. His body ached from sitting still for so long and he was hungry again, but he knew mealtime was several hours away yet. He had no idea how long Qui-Gon would be in seclusion with the Shaman of the Whills. It could be days. Or even weeks.

Obi-Wan stood and stretched. He was tall enough that his fingertips brushed the ceiling as he did so. That felt better, but what he really wanted was to walk around and stretch his legs. Was he allowed? No one had warned him not to wander around, but the Whills were so secretive in general, maybe they wouldn't like it.

Obi-Wan opened the door to his cell and poked his head out. No one was around. All was quiet. Suddenly decisive, he slipped out into the corridor. He'd just walk around for a few minutes and then return. That couldn't do any harm.

The Sanctuary of the Whills was built like a maze, with corridors branching out at odd angles and numerous small chambers with no apparent purpose strung together like beads on a necklace, but Obi-Wan had a good sense of direction and kept track of how to get back to his cell. Every so often, he would have to go up or down several rough-hewn steps in the floor, treading carefully so he wouldn't trip in the dim light of the glowglobes resting in sconces spaced far apart on the walls.

Suddenly, he saw natural light shining from the end of a corridor. Eager to feel the warmth of sunshine on his skin, Obi-Wan walked quickly toward it.

The corridor opened into the largest room he'd seen yet in the sanctuary. It looked like some sort of gathering place, but the wooden benches were all pushed to the edges of the room. Smooth marble pillars supported the vaulted ceiling. The large expanse of empty stone floor appeared striped from the shadows and light cast by the windows set high in the wall to his right. Obi-Wan walked to the center of the room and tipped his face up to the warming rays of sunlight. Nothing but blue sky was visible through the window, but the color was a relief for his eyes and his mind after looking at nothing but stone walls for so long. He stood there for several minutes, just savoring the change.

Eventually, it occurred to him that he hadn't even looked at the other half of the room. He turned to look behind him - and widened his eyes in surprise.

The entire back wall was painted with an enormous fresco, the colors vivid in the late afternoon sun shining upon it. A brilliant sun was painted at the top center of the painting, its rays falling down upon three figures, painted larger than life. In the center, a young dark-haired man dressed in white was looking down and to his left at a dark figure who gripped the young man's wrist tightly, as if to drag him downwards. The shadowy man stood surrounded by flames and smoke that swirled around him and half-obscured him. His hood was pulled forward so far that only the tip of his nose showed, yet Obi-Wan felt revulsion rise in his throat as he looked at the figure, feeling sure the hood hid a monstrous visage.

The third figure stood on an incline at the young man's right hand. He, too, was dressed in white and looked very similar to the young man in the center, except he had auburn hair and beard, and his face was twisted in anguish. His hand stretched down imploringly to the young man - who appeared to be drawing away and turning instead toward the shadowy man, with a strangely blank expression on his face.

Unaccountably, Obi-Wan felt his pulse quicken as he looked at the two men on either side silently struggle over the young man between them. He suddenly realized that he was holding his breath, and took in air with a gasp, but he was already lightheaded. A knot twisted in his stomach sickeningly. He could not take his eyes off the anguished face of the bearded man. Why didn't the young man take his hand? Why wouldn't he accept his help?

Obi-Wan was breathing again, but only shallowly, and a strange tingling sensation burned in his chest and began crawling out to his extremities, leaving him weak-limbed. The room began to spin around him. Abruptly he fell to his knees and clutched at his head, gasping for air.

_Take his hand!_ he thought confusedly. _Take his hand, take his hand, take his hand, take his hand, take his..._

* * *

"Are you well, little Jedi?"

Obi-Wan lifted his head with a start.

_Where am I?_ he thought. The light was very dim.

Obi-Wan looked over and recognized Elivo crouching down beside him, lantern in hand, looking concerned. Slowly, Obi-Wan came to the realization that was laying on his stomach on the stone floor - and apparently had been for some time. His body ached all over.

"Are you ill?" Elivo persisted.

With a grunt, Obi-Wan lifted himself up on his hands and knees and then stiffly pushed himself up into a sitting position. A glance up at the windows told him the sun had just set.

"I'm fine," he said. "I ... fell asleep."

"You should not have left your room without telling someone," the Keeper said sternly. "We have been searching all over for you."

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan said. "It won't happen again."

He was gradually remembering what had brought him to his knees in this room. The memory made him feel sick all over again, but he could not resist looking up at the fresco once more. He couldn't see much detail by the light of the lantern, but still the three figures struggled in their game of human tug-of-war. A massive shudder moved down his spine.

"Come. We are late for the evening meal," Elivo said.

Obi-Wan had never felt less like eating in all his 15 years, but he followed the monk out of the room, casting one final glance back at the painting as he left.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	7. Chapter 7

**StoneBlack**: I see it as a movie in my head when I write it - glad it's coming through to you, too!

**littlelionluvr**: That makes perfect sense - you hit the nail on the head.

**Eruwaedhier Telemnar**: Could be the past or the future, or... both. Only time will tell. ;-)

**Obiwan456**: He's in a bit of denial, and who can blame him?

**Kelaria**: I like to think there are always possibilities. The future is always in motion!

**Donahermurphy**: You have no idea how helpful your review was. Your musings helped me see a couple of plot holes I had inadvertently created. Expect all your questions to be answered in the next few chapters, and thank you for your help!

**Chapter 7**

Obi-Wan could not stay away from the fresco. It repulsed him, yet it compelled him.

Each day he arose, determined to spend the entire day meditating with the monks of the Whills as he should. And every day his will would waver, until sooner or later he excused himself and returned to the sun-striped room, where he would sit cross-legged on the floor in front of the painting for hours at a time. No one disturbed him. After many days of this, he knew every detail. He knew every vein that stood out in the central figure's neck. He knew that there was a chip in the plaster near the shadowy man's right knee. But most of all, he knew the third man, the one who tried and failed to help his friend. His expression, his posture, the blue sky behind him sullied by rising columns of smoke - everything about him spoke of despair.

He sat before the painting as usual one morning, lost in thought, when he heard footsteps coming down the corridor toward him. Obi-Wan scrambled to his feet and hastily brushed the dust off his trousers as he turned to face whoever was coming.

With a rustle of heavy fabric, a woman draped in ivory robes and a simple head covering walked into the room. _The Shaman?_ Obi-Wan guessed. He had not been able to see her clearly before, through the curtain. Her face was deeply lined with wrinkles, but her eyes were bright as a bird's. Qui-Gon entered the room a step beside her.

"Good morning, Padawan," Qui-Gon said, moving forward to greet him. Obi-Wan bowed to him respectfully and said, "Good morning, Master. I hope you are well?"

"Well enough," Qui-Gon said. "I don't believe the two of you were formally introduced before. Obi-Wan, this is the Shaman of the Whills. You may call her Your Grace."

"I am pleased to meet you, Your Grace," Obi-Wan said, bowing low.

"Young Obi-Wan," the Shaman said, her cracked voice echoing in the large room. "I'm afraid I kept your Master from you longer than you would have liked."

"A Jedi must learn patience," Obi-Wan said respectfully. "And Elivo has been teaching me your meditation techniques while I waited."

"So he said," the Shaman said. "He also said you neglected practicing those techniques, in favor of admiring our artwork here." The Shaman's tone was neutral, but Obi-Wan flushed with shame and looked down at the floor. In the uncomfortable silence that followed, he couldn't decide whether to apologize or try to defend himself, and in the end he decided to simply hold his tongue.

To his surprise, the Shaman began to chuckle, and although her laugh was wheezy, the sound was surprisingly warm and good-natured. "Relax, young one," she said, and Obi-Wan dared to look back up to meet her gaze. "I will leave your discipline to your Master," she added. "You are hardly the first student to be distracted thus; even I keep the walls of my meditation chambers free of art so I can concentrate properly. Still, despite your lack of focus, have you found success in recollecting any of your previous forms?"

Obi-Wan's mind flashed involuntarily toward the painting behind him, and he could not stop a swell of dark despair from washing over him. But he was a Jedi, and so he lifted his chin bravely and said, "With respect, Your Grace, I don't believe in the cycle of souls."

The Shaman's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and then drew together in a V as she suddenly advanced on Obi-Wan, her intense gaze boring into him. Taking a step back away from her, Obi-Wan couldn't help but feel like an open book under those bright eyes, as though all his thoughts and fears and hopes were laid bare before her...

"So you say," she said in a low voice, "and yet you doubt your own words. You _have_ remembered something." She took another step toward him. "I sense much fear in you, young Jedi. Why should you fear to tell me of your other pasts?"

Obi-Wan could not sort out a proper response to this question and looked to Qui-Gon for help, but in a rare turn of events, his Master seemed caught off-guard by the turn in the conversation. Unnerved and eager to avoid the Shaman's sharp eyes, Obi-Wan could not stop himself from shooting a sidelong glance at the fresco behind him instead, feeling a jolt of inexplicable recognition as he always did each time he looked at the three figures.

The Shaman followed his gaze - and froze. Her eyes flicked back and forth from the painting to Obi-Wan. "What is this?" she asked in a bewildered voice. "Did _this_ image trigger...?" She shook her head in rapid denial, and suddenly fear blossomed through the Force.

"No," she said, shaking her head again, but as she looked at Obi-Wan her fear grew. "No! Not that... not again... not now!"

Qui-Gon was looking back and forth from his Padawan to the Shaman in alarm. He gently laid a large hand on the Shaman's shoulder and said, "Perhaps if we all remain calm-"

The Shaman jerked away from Qui-Gon's touch, her face twisted with some unidentifiable emotion. She pointed an accusatory finger at Obi-Wan and shouted: "You should not be here! You cannot be here!"

"I'm sorry!" Obi-Wan burst out. "No one said I couldn't... I tried to stay away... I tried... I can't stop myself!"

"Which one?" the Shaman asked Obi-Wan sharply. Her bosom rose and fell rapidly as she panted for breath.

"Please-" he blurted out. "It isn't what you think. It's just a bad feeling, I have them all the time, it doesn't mean I'm _him_..."

"Please, Your Grace, is this really-" Qui-Gon began to say, but the Shaman ignored him.

"Which one?" she demanded again, pointing at the three figures on the wall. "The dark one?"

"No!" Obi-Wan cried.

"The traitor, then?"

"No... no... I'm just me!" Obi-Wan was barely aware of Qui-Gon moving beside him and putting an arm around Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"The martyr?"

Obi-Wan hesitated. The Shaman waited.

After a long moment, he whispered one word: "Yes."

The Shaman's face was hard. "That's the answer the dark one would give, too. We shall see."

* * *

They waited. At the Shaman's request, Qui-Gon had agreed to take Obi-Wan back to his quarters and stay with him until she called for them again. As soon as Qui-Gon closed the door, Obi-Wan sat limply on the sleep couch. Qui-Gon closed the door and knelt in front of Obi-Wan to gently ask: "What was that all about?"

For one horrible moment, Obi-Wan thought he was going to cry in front of Qui-Gon. With a terrible effort, he controlled himself. After several slow cleansing breaths, he was able to begin at the beginning and tell his Master about his strange fascination with the fresco.

"Master, the Shaman thinks there's something wrong with me," Obi-Wan whispered when he was through.

"I'm your Master, Obi-Wan, and I know better," Qui-Gon said, "and so do you. We should be patient. I'm sure a resolution will present itself."

They both looked up at the sound of a bell tolling long and slow, and then the rustle of robes as countless monks left their meditations to walk down the corridors toward the gathering place.

Qui-Gon sat down next to Obi-Wan. A long silence followed. Obi-Wan wished Qui-Gon would distract him from his thoughts by telling him what he'd learned from the Shaman during the past few weeks, but his Master volunteered nothing on the subject.

They'd been sitting there for nearly two hours when they heard singing in the distance. The monks were chanting in unison, their voices rising and falling in sorrowful tones, echoing down the corridors. The music went on a long time. It made Obi-Wan feel dull and drowsy, as though he were weighed down with a heavy burden, and only sleep could bring relief. He laid down on the sleep couch, closed his eyes, and let the haze seep into his mind. He lost all track of time.

He found himself startled out of a sound sleep when someone knocked on the door; sitting up, Obi-Wan realized the singing had stopped. Qui-Gon got up and opened the door. It was Siddhari. He looked at Obi-Wan and gave him a half-smile that looked like it was meant to be encouraging.

"The Shaman would like to see you now," he said to Obi-Wan. "Just you alone - if that's all right, Master Qui-Gon."

Obi-Wan gave a questioning look at Qui-Gon, who nodded. Obi-Wan felt his stomach twist with dread, but he trusted Qui-Gon, and he was resolute. Might as well face the Shaman and get it over with.

"I'm ready," Obi-Wan said, but Siddhari didn't move. He was staring at Obi-Wan with open curiosity in his eyes. Obi-Wan cleared his throat. "Is there something else?" he asked Siddhari as politely as he could.

"Yes!" Siddhari said eagerly. "Tell me, where were you born?"

"I don't know," Obi-Wan said.

In response to Siddhari's surprised expression, Qui-Gon quickly explained, "Jedi are raised to serve the galaxy at large. For that reason, young Jedi are kept in ignorance of their homeworlds and birth families, at least until their training is complete."

"You are from our planet. You are from Guatama," Siddhari stated matter-of-factly. Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow.

"Unlikely," Qui-Gon said. "Guatama doesn't even appear in the Jedi Archives. And the Shaman told me that all Force-sensitive children from your world are sent here, to this sanctuary."

"Yes, we are," Siddhari said. "And look, here he is."

Qui-Gon smiled slightly and said nothing, but Obi-Wan knew him well enough by now to sense the waves of skepticism rolling off him.

"Come," Siddhari said. "We mustn't keep the Shaman waiting."

**TO BE CONTINUED  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**littlelionluvr**: Hey, if I thought I'd met a teenage "dark one," I'd yell at him, too. :-P

**StoneBlack**: I wonder if I can get Obi-Wan a cookie by the end of the story? I'll try to work it in. ;-)

**Obi-Qui**: I'm posting this chapter today to save your life.

**charliebrown1234 and Kelaria**: Thank you, it's my first attempt at writing a story with mystery elements!

**Eruwaedhier Telemnar**: Yeah, it sucks to be a martyr. But, better that than the other two choices, I think...

**Obiwan456**: You're about to find out. :)

**Chapter 8**

Siddhari led Obi-Wan to see the Shaman of the Whills. She was seated in front of a desk writing when they entered her chambers. Obi-Wan was relieved to see she looked perfectly serene as she glanced up at them.

"That will be all, Siddhari," she said.

When they were alone together, the Shaman looked up at Obi-Wan and smiled a little, although her eyes were dark with sorrow. "I frightened you, earlier," she said. "I am sorry. I should not have lost control of my emotions." She rose and came to stand in front of him. "The Whills have always been a peaceable Order, but if you _had_ been the dark one..." the Shaman's voice trailed off. "Well, young one, let's just say that you haven't seen me at my best today. You see, even someone as old as I still has much to learn."

"Then, you believe me?" Obi-Wan asked hesitantly.

"We've been going through our records of you," the Shaman said. "I wrote some of them myself. You see, when I first encountered your Master in my research, I was... intrigued. I could sense he was important, somehow, and so I watched him closely. Then, when he took you as apprentice, I set Siddhari to watching you whenever you were separated from Qui-Gon, in case you ended up becoming an important influence on your Master." She laughed humorlessly. "And now I discover that the reason Qui-Gon is important... is because he's important to _you_."

She touched his cheek with cool, dry fingertips. "You are still so young. But we've studied the pattern of your life, such as it is. Sometimes you have been angry, sometimes you have been impatient... but I do not believe you are dark." She nodded encouragingly at Obi-Wan's silent sigh of relief.

"I have something to show you," she said. "Please, come and walk with me."

Obi-Wan walked respectfully a step behind the Shaman as she led him through the corridors of the sanctuary. It wasn't long before he guessed where she was going. He slowed his steps until she glanced back and said firmly, "Come." Reluctantly, he caught up to her again.

The Shaman stopped in front of the now-familiar fresco and looked unflinchingly up at it.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked him.

"No, Your Grace," Obi-Wan said politely, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground.

"I will tell you the story. It is a true story. The young man in the center, the one descending to the underworld, is the Sun God, who - along with his twin brother, the Sky God - ruled over my ancestors here on Guatama many millennia ago.

"You must not misunderstand when I call them gods. They were mortal, but their power was so great and their righteousness so pure, that to their subjects they seemed otherworldly. But greater even than the power of the Sun God and Sky God was their love for each other. It is said they were named thus because nothing could separate them. It would be as impossible as separating the sun and the sky.

"But something did separate them," Obi-Wan said, looking up at the fresco.

"Yes, something did. Or rather, someone," the Shaman said, lightly touching the hem of the dark figure's robe. "Stryfe - the necromancer, who my ancestors believed had the power to escort departed souls into the underworld. He was jealous of the power of the twin brothers - he wished to overthrow them, but he dared not challenge them directly. Instead, he donned a fair disguise, and befriended the Sun God, speaking words of flattery to him, telling him he should be worshiped above all others, and introducing him to the insidious pleasures of riches and fair women.

"He spoke lies into the Sun God's ear, whispering to him that the Sky God was jealous of him, and was plotting to depose him and take the glory of the kingdom for himself. The Sun God did not wish to believe - but for the first time in his life, he doubted his brother.

"Then came a day when the fairest woman in the kingdom - whom the Sun God had once loved, until Stryfe corrupted that love into a desire to possess her - fell ill. Her strength dwindled until she was on the brink of death. The Sky God saw his brother's anguish and comforted him, reminding him that by nature's decree, all beginnings must have an end.

"The Sun God was frightened and angry, and turned to Stryfe, wishing to hear more fair words than what his twin brother could give.

"Stryfe told the Sun God that as necromancer, he had the power to halt death. He promised to do this for the Sun God's woman on one condition: the Sun God must prove his loyalty to Stryfe by killing his twin brother, the Sky God. Then, the two of them together would rule both the world of light and the underworld.

"The Sun God agreed. He brought an army into the palace and slaughtered all who were loyal to his brother - even their women and children. Then he sought out his twin where he watched over the dying woman, and challenged him. The Sky God and the woman saw his blood-stained hands and perceived at last the madness that had come over the Sun God, and implored him to turn back to the light. But they were too late. The brothers battled as the woman watched from her deathbed. Both did great injury to each other. At last, when it seemed the Sun God was about to triumph, the woman leapt between them to protect the Sky God, believing that her lover would not harm her.

"She was wrong. The Sun God became enraged, believing his brother had stolen the heart of his woman. He killed the woman and struck down the Sky God.

"The traitor returned to rule by Stryfe's side. The sun set, and eternal night fell.

"But though the Sun God believed his brother dead, the Sky God survived, by the will of the Force."

The Shaman of the Whills sighed deeply and turned to Obi-Wan, her eyes looking even older than her body. "And thus the story ends," she said.

"But... what happened to the Sky God?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I imagine he lived out the rest of his years in darkness and despair, as did all the people of Guatama. No one knows for certain. There is a gap of a century in the records of my people. When our history resumes, it makes references to the nature of that dark age: Violence - oppression - plagues - poverty - ignorance. Stryfe was not a benevolent leader.

"Well, young one, what do you think of my story?"

"I don't like sad endings," Obi-Wan said. He looked up at the Sky God's anguished face again, and shuddered. "You think I'm the Sky God, don't you?"

"_You_ think that, young Jedi, and you would know better than I."

"But I'm not so sure that I do," Obi-Wan protested. "And even if it were true, that I were somehow the Sky God reborn, what difference does it make? It was all so long ago."

"It makes a great deal of difference, to all of us," the Shaman said. "If you have been called back to life now, it means the cycle is beginning again. The next dark age is nearly upon us. Soon, you will once again be betrayed by the Sun God. Much blood will be spilled, and all those you live to protect will taste despair for generations. You cannot escape your destiny."

Obi-Wan was too shocked to speak. He wanted to deny her words, and yet... these images had fascinated him from the moment he saw them. Strange thoughts whirled in his brain. Could it be possible that he had a twin brother, out there in the galaxy somewhere, who had not been given to the Jedi Order? Would he meet him one day? Would he live to see the day when his own flesh and blood destroyed peace and justice in the galaxy? He shut his eyes against the dark and disturbing scenes his imagination provided. He could not believe such things could happen. He would not. He felt defiance rise in him.

"How can you say there is no escape?" he demanded passionately. "What is the point, then, of living? How can you stand there and tell me that I can't change what will happen? Are we people, or puppets?"

The Shaman acknowledged his questions, and his distress, with a dip of her head. She chose her next words carefully. "There are some who believe we have no choice, that it is impossible to interrupt the cycle. Others believe it can be done."

"But what do you believe?"

"I prefer to keep an open mind. Come, I have something else to show you."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	9. Chapter 9

**StoneBlack**: Glad you're warming up to the Shaman. No cookies in this chapter, but just you wait!

**donahermurphy**: Interesting, huh? :-D I want to answer your AU question so badly, but I must resist, or I'll spoil things!

**Kelaria**: Thank you! It's the epic/legend-type aspects of Star Wars that made me fall in love with the movies in the first place.

**charliebrown1234**: I know what you mean! Good thing Obi-Wan isn't the moping kind.

**Valairy Scot**: I really wish hindsight could be foresight instead. Then we would all be a lot wiser.

**Obi-Qui**: Thanks for making me laugh - I use that quote all the time!

**phantom-jedi1**: Thank you, I'm very flattered! And I must give credit to Matthew Stover for inspiring the imagery - he liberally sprinkled the Revenge of the Sith novelization with sun metaphors. Check it out sometime if you haven't already.

**Chapter 9  
**

The Shaman swept out of the room without waiting to see if he would follow. After a moment, Obi-Wan's curiosity got the best of him and he followed the Shaman through a dim corridor and stopped in front of a plain wooden door guarded by two monks. The Shaman dismissed the men, unlocked the door with one of the keys dangling inside her robes, and gestured for Obi-Wan to enter first.

The room was pitch black, but he could tell by the echoes that it was small. The smell of must filled his nostrils. The Shaman took a glowglobe from a sconce in the corridor and followed him in, closing the door tightly behind her.

In the sudden flood of light that washed across the room, Obi-Wan saw the walls were lined with shelves filled with books - the old-fashioned kind. An enormous stand rested in the center of the room.

The Shaman handed the glowglobe to Obi-Wan and stepped forward, reverently running her hand over the covers of the dusty tomes before she chose one and placed it on the stand. She opened it gently and began leafing through the pages - made of wood-pulp paper, not flimsi, Obi-Wan noted with surprise.

"You've seen that we keep our records on holocrons, for the sake of longevity, but our most important volumes are also copied onto paper," she said, her voice bouncing between the stone walls of the chamber. "It's a tradition, dating back to the beginnings of our Order. This is one of the oldest volumes of the Journal of the Whills. Of course no single book could have survived the ravages of time for so long; it has been transcribed and copied and even translated, many times."

Curious, Obi-Wan stepped close by her and held the glowglobe near the pages as she turned them. He could see the words were written by hand in modern Basic, although many of the phrases and spellings were archaic.

"Here it is," the Shaman said. "Chapter 3, Line 127." She stepped aside and, taking Obi-Wan by the shoulders, gently pulled him in front of the book. He read the line out loud:

_"And in the time of greatest despair,  
there shall come a savior,  
and he shall be known as  
THE SON OF THE SUNS." _

"The Son of the Suns?" Obi-Wan repeated. "Does that mean, the son of the Sun God?"

"That's the question, isn't it?" the Shaman said. "I told you we don't truly know the end of the story of the twin gods, because no record was kept. But a number of our poets over the millennia wrote their own versions of the story. One was written by one of my predecessors - the Shaman of the Whills 2,000 years ago. In her poem, she writes that the Sky God became a hermit, wandering from city to city in loneliness and despair. In his travels, he finds a young boy who is revealed to him as the son of the Sun God, hidden away by his mother's family because they knew he could pose a threat to Stryfe and would thus be a target for his sword. The Sky God becomes the boy's surrogate father, and teaches the boy the skills he needs to defeat Stryfe and restore the kingdom to its former glory.

"She acknowledged that her poem was only conjecture, but she based it on the line you just read, which she claims came to her in a dream."

Obi-Wan rubbed at his eyes, which felt dry and irritated from the dust in the air. "Why did you tell me all of this?" he asked. "Even if it's true - don't you think I'd be happier not knowing what lies ahead?"

The Shaman raised an eyebrow. "Knowledge is a gift, young Jedi. I am trying to give you hope. You think you can stop the cycle. Perhaps you can; I cannot see the future. But if you cannot..." The Shaman sighed deeply. "I have heard the story of the twin gods many times, since I was a little girl. I often thought the Sky God must have blamed himself for failing to prevent what happened. I could not bear to think of you suffering in this manner. Look closely at your hands. They are clean. When the times comes - if it comes - promise me you will remember that."

The Shaman waited expectantly.

"I promise," Obi-Wan said stiffly.

"You are angry with me," the Shaman said. "But one day you may thank me. I will look forward to that time."

She gently closed the book and returned it to its spot on the shelf, and they left the room and returned in silence to the room where Qui-Gon waited.

"We are grateful for your hospitality, and for your lessons," Qui-Gon said, bowing to the Shaman. "But now it time for us to return to our Temple and our duties."

"You have been an apt pupil," she said to the Jedi Master. "I am sorry to see you go, but - Force willing - we will see each other again."

She glanced at Obi-Wan, who had retreated to his usual spot standing just behind Qui-Gon's elbow.

"You may teach your Padawan the ancient secret, when the time comes," she said to Qui-Gon. "I have a feeling he will need it more than we will."

Siddhari showed the Jedi out of the sanctuary - through the front door, this time - and gave them each a sack bulging with historical holocrons, which instructions from Elivo to discreetly add them to the Archives at the Jedi Temple, as well as the library at the University of Coruscant.

"That way, the galaxy will once again benefit from our histories," Siddhari said. "But Elivo said you must both promise that you will tell no one about Guatama, or our Order. We wish to remain in seclusion. I am sure you understand."

"You have our word," Qui-Gon said, although Obi-Wan wondered to himself what the Whills would have done if Qui-Gon had refused to promise. Maybe the monks would have set the spiders on them as they returned to their ship. Obi-Wan closed his eyes briefly as he realized he would soon have to climb back up that blasted cliff. He had a bad feeling about that.

"Farewell, Siddhari," Qui-Gon said.

Over the last few years, Obi-Wan had grown accustomed to saying goodbye to new friends almost as soon as he made them, but that didn't make it any easier. On impulse, he reached out to shake Siddhari's hand and said, "I wish you could come and see our Temple."

Siddhari smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling up as he did so. "I'll be seeing it through your eyes," he said. "The Shaman has accorded me a great honor. I'm to devote myself exclusively to writing your story. Someday, when we are both old men, you must return and I will give you a copy. Promise you will?"

"I promise. May the Force be with you, Siddhari."

"May the Force be with you." Siddhari glanced over at Qui-Gon, who had politely moved out of earshot, and whispered with a wink: "You know we aren't supposed to take sides... but I want you to know I'll be rooting for you the whole time."

Obi-Wan smiled. "I won't tell if you won't," he whispered, and Siddhari smiled back.

"Until we meet again, Obi-Wan."

* * *

"Master - you don't think it's true, do you?" Obi-Wan asked when their ship was streaking through hyperspace back to Coruscant. "You don't think I'm the Sky God?"

Qui-Gon leaned back in the pilot's chair thoughtfully.

"Obi-Wan, you will find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly upon our point of view. Look at it this way. What happens when we die?"

"Our souls merge with the Force," Obi-Wan answered.

"And when someone is born, where does that new life come from?"

"From the Force."

"So if the Sky God truly existed, and then died and became one with the Force, then some part of his essence does indeed reside in you," Qui-Gon said. "So what the Shaman told you was true, from a certain point of view. But to believe that you and he are the same person, doomed to the same fate - no. I do not believe that."

"I don't believe it, either," Obi-Wan whispered. "And yet, it frightens me. Why am I frightened, Master?"

"You told me you were drawn to the images before the Shaman told you the story behind them. Perhaps it is the will of the Force that you learn something from this experience, even if you aren't the Sky God reborn."

_I don't want to learn anything from it_, Obi-Wan thought. _I want to forget any of this ever happened.  
_  
"What did _you_ learn, Master?" he asked, eager to change the subject. "What did the Shaman teach you?"

"A new application of the Force. That is all I can say. She swore me to secrecy, Padawan."

"But she said you could teach me."

"When you are ready. That time is far distant. And besides," Qui-Gon added. "I'm not entirely sure that it will work. I can tell you this much - the ancient secret has been known, at least in theory, for many generations of Shamans. But none of them were successful in implementing it. The Shaman we met is determined to be the first. We shall see. If she succeeds - and if I do - then I will teach you."

Qui-Gon did not consider himself a superstitious man. But he could see that Obi-Wan was disturbed by his encounter with the Shaman of the Whills. And he himself felt unsettled, in a way he rarely did. Enough so that when they returned to the Temple and finished smuggling the Whills' holocrons into the Archives, he sent Obi-Wan to their quarters to sleep, while he remained behind.

As Obi-Wan's Master, he had access to the teenager's birth records. He had never before looked at them. He'd never had a reason to. But right now, he felt he would not be able to rest until he knew, one way or the other...

Qui-Gon retrieved the memory chip and slid it into an Archive computer, and looked at the screen without hesitation.

Obi-Wan had been taken to the Temple by Jedi Knight Hill Yanroud before his second birthday - from the planet of Anobis, in the Mid-Rim. His family was middle-class. He had an older brother - not a twin - who was not Force-sensitive.

Qui-Gon rubbed his forehead, and could not suppress a sigh of relief. Even if Obi-Wan had been from Guatama, or had a twin, it would not have proved anything. But his Padawan's very ordinary origins were a comfort to him. No need to mention this to Obi-Wan, then. The sooner his Padawan forgot about the incident, the sooner he would be able to concentrate on his studies again.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	10. Chapter 10

**Eruwaedhier Telemnar**: I always thought the silence on Obi-Wan's family or homeworld was strange, too. I would love a profic author to explore his origins, but somehow I doubt it will ever be addressed in canon.

**StoneBlack**: My high school math teacher taught me that assuming makes an "$$" out of "u" and "me." Is that what you mean? ;-) I was sorry to leave Guatama, too!

**charliebrown1234**: Will I take this to the Episode 1 era? The answer is below!

**Kelaria**: I always thought the "a certain point of view" philosophy seemed like a perfect match for Qui-Gon.

**Obi-Qui**: They won't forget, but life goes on...

**A/N: A big shoutout to StoneBlack for coming up with the cookie idea. Thanks!**

**Chapter 9**

"Hey, Obi-Wan! Happy birthday!"

Garen Muln slid a box across the crowded table in Didi's Cafe, which came to a rest right in front of Obi-Wan, and gestured at him to open it.

"Garen, you don't need to get me presents anymore!" Obi-Wan protested. He nearly had to shout over the noise all his friends at the table were making laughing and talking to each other. "I'm really too old for that."

"Since when is 25 too old to want presents for your birthday?" Garen asked. "And this is a special occasion. Your last birthday as a Padawan." The Padawans close enough to hear what Garen said all cheered at this.

"Don't jinx me," Obi-Wan said. "You said that last year, remember?" He opened the box. It was full of cookies: blue ones, shaped like lightsabers. Obi-Wan laughed, and so did everyone else.

"Thank you, Garen," he said as he took a cookie and then passed the box around the table for all his friends to take one, too.

"Come on, have a little faith!" Garen said, talking around a mouthful of cookie. "Qui-Gon _has_ to be on the verge of recommending you to the Council. Master Rhara is making noises about letting me take the Trials, and you're better than I am at everything."

"Except cookie baking."

"Oh, I didn't make them," Garen said, waving a hand vaguely. "I got Bant to do it."

That would explain the faint salty flavor, then. Obi-Wan mouthed a thank-you to Bant, his Mon Calamari friend sitting at the far end of the table, and she waved a webbed hand in response.

"Speaking of Qui-Gon," Garen said, looking around the table, "didn't you invite him?"

"He left to meditate about an hour before I left," Obi-Wan said. "He said he would be here, but..." he shrugged. "I guess he lost track of time."

Qui-Gon must have completely forgotten about his promise though, because as the night wore on and the gathering began to break up, he still hadn't shown up. Obi-Wan returned to the Temple and walked straight to the quarters they shared, but the rooms were silent and empty. Could his Master still be meditating, after so many hours? Next he went to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, where Qui-Gon often meditated, but he wasn't there either.

Sometimes he would use one of the many small meditation chambers scattered around the Temple when he particularly didn't want to be interrupted. Nothing to do, then, but wait for him to return.

Obi-Wan wasn't tired. He went back to their quarters, sat at his desk and flipped on the HoloNet news feed. The big story of the day was the same as it had been the day before, and the day before that: the rumored blockade of the Naboo system. Today, Chancellor Velorum himself had made a plea for the Senate to form a committee to investigate the claims, but as usual the Senators were dragging their feet, afraid to take a stand and risk annoying the powerful Neimoidian delegation.

_Politicians_, Obi-Wan thought disdainfully, shutting off the receiver emphatically. A Jedi Knight would make short work of confirming or debunking the rumors, but the Chancellor was not supposed to dispatch Jedi without the approval of the Senate, and it didn't seem likely that he would get it.

A knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened and Qui-Gon walked in. Obi-Wan was startled at the gleam in his Master's eyes. He looked almost... what? Agitated? Excited? These were words that did not fit his Master. But there was certainly something different about him.

"Obi-Wan!" he said. "Good - you're still here. I thought you might have left for Didi's already."

"_Left_ for Didi's?" Obi-Wan said, furrowing his brow. "I've already been there, and come back."

"What? What time is it?" Qui-Gon looked at the chrono on Obi-Wan's desk. "Oh. I've missed your birthday. I'm sorry, Padawan."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "It isn't a problem. Truly. What happened to you?"

Qui-Gon sat down on Obi-Wan's bed, only to bounce up again a moment later to pace across the floor. Obi-Wan stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Obi-Wan - do you remember our visit to Guatama? When we met the Shaman of the Whills?"

"How could I forget?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised, although he hadn't thought of the encounter in a long time. He'd done his best to push it to the back of his mind. Even now, he felt a chill shoot down his spine as the memories came flooding back.

"And you remember how she was planning to try out a new application of the Force?"

"Yes. Even though no one else has ever managed to do it before - whatever 'it' is."

Qui-Gon leaned forward, jubilation written all over his face.

"She did it!"

"What?"

"Yes, Padawan - she did it! She succeeded!"

"But - how do you know? Did she contact you?"

For some reason, Qui-Gon seemed to find the question amusing. He chuckled softly. "Yes, Padawan, she contacted me."

"So are we going back to Guatama, to see it for ourselves?"

"That would be no use," Qui-Gon said. "She's dead."

"What?" Obi-Wan exclaimed in disappointment. "You mean she finally figured it out, only to die right afterward?"

"There are worse things than death," Qui-Gon murmured. And still the gleam was in his eyes.

"And - have you done it now, too, Master? Is that what you've been doing tonight?"

"No, Padawan, not yet. But I feel confident it is only a matter of time."

"Then... you'll teach me now?" Obi-Wan asked eagerly. "I must admit, I am curious to find out what the big secret is. And she said you could teach me."

"I hadn't forgotten, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said. "But you are still not ready, and will not be for many years yet. You must have patience."

"But Master - suppose you die before you can teach me," Obi-Wan said - and then crimsoned as he realized how tactless the remark was.

But for some reason, Qui-Gon only chuckled softly to himself again, and said no more.

* * *

Two weeks later, Obi-Wan Kenobi knelt at the foot of his Master's funeral pyre in the chill hours that preceded dawn. There was no sound but the hiss of cooled ashes being blown against the stone walls of the turret room of Naboo's Theed Palace.

He did not weep. He had wept all his tears by the melting pit in the Theed Palace generator complex. He had reported his Master's death, dry-eyed, in a transmission to the Jedi Council. He had watched his Master's body burn with perfect composure. Master Yoda would be proud. He'd buried his feelings down deep, just as a Jedi should.

He remembered what the Shaman of the Whills had said to him 10 years ago - how dark times were coming. How skeptical he had been! How different his perspective was, now that he had seen a Sith Lord with his own eyes. Now that the closest thing he had to a father had been torn away from him. And somewhere out there, another Sith was watching and waiting for the chance to wreak further death and destruction on an unsuspecting galaxy.

_Qui-Gon said, all those years ago, that there was something I could learn from my experience on Guatama_, Obi-Wan thought. _What am I supposed to learn? That I am destined for eternal sorrow?_

Even now, he could not bear to look upon the Sky God's anguished face even in memory.

_"And in the time of greatest despair,  
there shall come a savior,  
and he shall be known as  
THE SON OF THE SUNS."_

_I am in despair! Where are you now?_ Obi-Wan cried out in his mind.

But there came no answer. Because there was no Son of Suns. There was no Sun God. There was no Sky God. There was only Obi-Wan Kenobi, and his grief.

_You can keep your ancient secret!_ he shouted to the Shaman in his mind. _I don't want it anymore - I just want my Master back!_

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	11. Chapter 11

**Obi-Qui**: I know, I felt so cruel for killing Qui-Gon. Well, it had to be done. :-( Everyone dies sometime, right?

**StoneBlack**: Thanks, it was fun to get to do a lighthearted scene before diving into the heart wrenching stuff...

**Kelaria**: Ah, so you figured it out! Good for you!

**Eruwaedhier Telemnar, phantom-jedi1 and charliebrown1234**: Hmmm, maybe I should have found a way to make it clear. Nothing AU has happened in the story up to this point, so yes, Obi-Wan has met Anakin and agreed to train him just like in the films. I wouldn't mess with your minds by going AU without telling you, I promise! The same goes for this chapter - you can assume that everything that happened prior to this was canon.

**Chapter 11**

Smoke and ashes burned Obi-Wan's eyes. Perhaps that was why tears were flowing down his cheeks.

He could smell the reek of burning flesh: human flesh. It reminded him of the night he stood by Qui-Gon's funeral pyre on Naboo. But this time it was not his Master who burned. It was his Padawan.

And this time, Obi-Wan was not an innocent bystander to the destruction of human life. He was the cause of it.

"I hate you!" Anakin Skywalker screamed at him, writhing in agony on the lava-bank of Mustafar as flames licked at the stumps of his legs.

"You were my brother, Anakin!" Obi-Wan choked out. "I loved you!"

And so he had. For more than a decade, he had given Anakin his affections, had poured his heart and soul into teaching him the difference between right and wrong, had laid awake at nights worrying about the boy's struggles with his fear and anger, had shared every bit of wisdom Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan as a Padawan...

But his words had fallen on deaf ears. Anakin had looked at the light, and turned his back on it. The boy he trained was gone, consumed by Darth Vader. Gone, too, were all the Jedi, every last one of them. Obi-Wan could not shut out of his mind the sight of bodies strewn in the hallways of the Temple as thickly as autumn leaves on the ground - the younglings, and their teachers, and the wounded who had been recovering in the healers' hall - all of them slain by Palpatine's new apprentice and the clone troops he commanded.

And this monstrosity - this violation of nature - had been spawned, in a manner of speaking, by Obi-Wan himself. He had taught Anakin everything he knew, had given him all the tools he needed to annihilate the helpless and the innocent. He had been blind to Palpatine's corruption of the boy.

And yet, through all the webs of confusion and deceit that had been spun around Obi-Wan and the young man he had loved as a brother, one truth came shining through as clear as day. If there was one thing Obi-Wan _was_ certain of, it was this: It didn't have to end this way.

"You were the Chosen One!" Obi-Wan shouted, his voice rough with emotion. "You could have brought balance to the Force... but you left it in darkness!"

Darth Vader's only answer was a scream of pain as flames engulfed his mutilated body.

Even now, Obi-Wan ought to strike the blow that would destroy this serpent once and for all, but he could not. He looked back down at Darth Vader's contorted face, and still he saw an innocent 9-year-old boy with sandy blond hair standing by his side at Qui-Gon's funeral, asking in a trembling voice: "What will happen to me now?"

Obi-Wan turned away from the sight in horror. He bent down to pick up Anakin's lightsaber, and stumbled away.

But at the top of the incline, he halted. He knew he mustn't turn back - but he did.

Incredibly, Anakin was slowly hitching himself forward with his mechanical hand, away from the lava flow. His body was charred black, his clothing melted into his skin, but the flames were flickering out. Obi-Wan was filled with a pity so profound that it swallowed up his fear. "Oh, Anakin," he whispered, extending a hand toward his Padawan. Perhaps, even now, it was not too late...

A sickening, oily presence in the Force intruded on Obi-Wan's senses. He looked for the source of the disturbance, and caught sight of a figure in dark robes walking swiftly on the lava-bank toward Anakin. Black smoke coiled around the skirts of his robe. In the shadows the man's hood cast over his face, all Obi-Wan could see was the tip of his nose. But somehow, he knew the hood hid a monstrous visage: Darth Sideous. He was followed by a host of faceless clone troopers.

So Yoda had failed to defeat the Sith Lord. And if Yoda could not, then Obi-Wan had no hope for himself. In a few moments, he would pay for his failings as a teacher with his own life. In the midst of his anguish, he felt a quiet stab of joy. At least Palpatine would put him out of his misery. The story would end here.

_But the story didn't end here, young one_, said a voice rising up from his memory - the Shaman of the Whills. _The Sky God survived. He still had a work to do.  
_  
_What work?_ Obi-Wan didn't ask her. It was no use speaking to the dead when they could not speak back.

But the decades-old memory was coming back to him now. The Sky God survived, he remembered, to protect the Son of the Suns - the son of the Sun God - who grew to defeat the necromancer.

_Padme!_

She was still alive when Obi-Wan and Anakin began fighting. Perhaps she was alive yet. And she carried Anakin's unborn child. Could it be...?

A new hope, tiny but strong, sprouted in Obi-Wan's heart. He could not defeat Palpatine. He could not save Anakin. But perhaps he could save Padme, and her child. Perhaps the story wasn't over yet.

He never did like unhappy endings.

**TO BE CONTINUED**

_A/N: A short chapter this time, but I will be posting an extra-long one soon to make up for it. As always, I deeply appreciate reviews!_


	12. Chapter 12

**StoneBlack**: I suppose even the best of parents must question themselves when their children go astray. And thank you for the compliment!

**Eruwaedhier Telemnar**: No, I'm glad the AU question was brought up. In future stories I'll know to make that clearer. About Luke, Ben and the book, I'm pleased to see you're expecting the things I expected my readers to expect. ;-) For Palpatine, how about a sledgehammer carefully hidden _inside_ the pie?

**charliebrown1234**: Hee-hee, I will strive to deliver!

**Obiwan456**: I think tragedy is only meaningful if there's a glimmer of hope mixed in, so I'm glad you caught that!

**Obi-Qui**: Yup, because an author is the god of the universe they created. ;-)

**Chapter 12**

Usually, Obi-Wan was mesmerized by the flickering light seen through the viewport of a ship traveling in hyperspace. But on this trip, once he had put the coordinates for the sun-scorched world of Tatooine into the navicomputer, he only had eyes for the face of the tiny infant he cradled in the crook of his arm: Luke Skywalker.

The Shaman of the Whills had been right, he thought, at least from a certain point of view. Obi-Wan's life was following the pattern of the Sky God's. And although he never would have chosen this fate for himself, he could live with it. He looked down at his hands, and he saw that the grime of Mustafar had been washed away; they were clean. As the Shaman had known they would be.

"..._and in the time of greatest despair, there shall come a savior, and he shall be known as THE SON OF THE SUNS,_" Obi-Wan murmured. Luke stirred slightly at the sound of his voice, then sighed deeply and relaxed back into sleep.

Could the prophecy of the Whills refer to the Skywalker twins? Surely there could be no greater despair than the destruction of the Republic and the genocide of the Jedi Knights. And Anakin's life had followed the pattern of the Sun God, as Obi-Wan had followed the Sky God. If that were so, Luke and Leia would have a place in the story as well.

But Obi-Wan could not trust his judgment. Once, he had been sure that the prophecy of the Chosen One referred to Anakin. He had been wrong. Rather than destroying the Sith and restoring the galaxy to its natural state in the light of the Force, Anakin had allowed the darkness to grow like a cancer. As much as Obi-Wan wanted to believe that his former Padawan would yet step out of the shadows and fulfill the prophecy, he knew by heart the words Master Yoda had said many times: "Once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny." If that were true, Anakin was not and never would be the Chosen One.

He would have to place all his hopes on the Son of the Suns. If only he could _know_ whether he held that new hope in his arms...

There was only one person Obi-Wan would have trusted to recognize the Son of Suns: the Shaman of the Whills. And she was dead.

But the Ancient Order of the Whills existed to pass knowledge from one generation to the next. The Shaman who saw the Sky God's pattern in Obi-Wan's soul was gone, but she must have passed her wisdom on to a successor - assuming the Order remained safely hidden on Guatama, as it had been for uncounted years.

Suddenly decisive, Obi-Wan gently shifted Luke's sleeping form so that he could hit the control to exit hyperspace, and entered a new set of coordinates.

Then he remembered how leery the Guatamans were of visitors, and thought he'd better give advance warning.

Although he felt a little foolish doing it, he ignored the communications equipment in the cockpit and instead looked out at the stars and spoke aloud.

"Siddhari? If you're still watching me, I'm coming to see your Shaman now. I hope that's all right."

* * *

The Guatamans were expecting him. The moment he emerged from hyperspace, he received a transmission directing him to land at the base of the mound where the Sanctuary of the Whills was hidden. Obi-Wan was grateful, knowing this time he could not trek through the jungle in such heat with a newborn baby slung across his chest. He climbed the steps slowly and steadily until he reached the peak.

The grove of trees at the top looked exactly as it had when he had visited as a boy. Memories of Qui-Gon were as thick here as the humid air. Obi-Wan swallowed painfully against the lump in his throat. With all that he had lost in the last few days, why should the death of his Master sting him now, when he had been gone for 13 years?

This time, Obi-Wan went to the front door. He threaded his way through the trees and rubble on the surface until he came to a shallow set of steps descending into the ground, with a heavy stone door at the bottom. A green-robed monk opened it just before he lifted his hand to knock.

She was Togrutan, and looked to be no more than 20 years old, judging by the length of her headtails. She could not have been born yet when he last visited the Whills, but she greeted him by name and told him the Shaman was waiting for him.

He followed her as she walked through the once-familiar meditation and research chambers. All were filled with countless numbers of monks, young and old, male and female, hunched over data processors, recording holocrons without ceasing or even glancing up at Obi-Wan as he passed.

"We are desperate to record it all as quickly as possible," his guide explained as they walked. "So much has happened, so quickly." She stopped just outside the door to the Shaman's sacred chamber, and looked up at Obi-Wan, who saw that her eyes were filled with unshed tears.

"It has been a great loss," she said. "For you, and for all of us. The fire of the Jedi has gone out of the universe, and soon your brothers and sisters will be forgotten by those they died to protect."

On impulse, she stepped up to him and laid her hand on his arm compassionately.

"But their deeds will live forever in our records," she said, her voice low with intensity. "I, Nendaa, promise you this. We will _never_ forget."

Obi-Wan could not speak, but he hoped she could read the gratitude in his eyes. After a moment, she released his arm and knocked on the door to the sacred chamber.

"Come in," a man's voice said from the other side.

Nendaa bowed to Obi-Wan and left him.

He opened the door and walked inside, shifting Luke's weight more comfortably across his chest. The room seemed unchanged. As before, the far end was hidden from sight by a floor-to-ceiling green curtain. The light of many lanterns hanging from the ceiling rested on the dark, close-cropped hair of the Shaman, who stood in the center of the room, facing him.

"My friend, Obi-Wan Kenobi," he said warmly. "You came back, as promised, although neither one of us are old men quite yet."

"Siddhari!" Obi-Wan said, feeling a pulse of unexpected pleasure at the sight of his old friend. "It's good to see you again. You're the Shaman?"

"Yes, it's me," Siddhari said, smiling. "I wish I could say I've missed you, but I've spent so much time watching you, it's as though you never left. Come and see our life's work."

Siddhari held out a thick book, with blue covers and gilded edges. Obi-Wan took it carefully and opened it. Lines of text and glimpses of hand-drawn images leaped out at him as he turned to pages at random:

An image of a young Obi-Wan weeping at the side of his dying Master...

_"I gave Qui-Gon my word. I _will_ train Anakin."_

Obi-Wan teasing a teenage Anakin for leaving droid parts scattered all over their quarters...

_"You're a fast learner and you have a good heart, Anakin. I'm proud to have you as my apprentice." _

A bearded Obi-Wan battling Jango Fett in the rains of Kamino...

_"I must admit, without the clones it would not have been a victory."_

Obi-Wan fighting battle droids with Anakin Skywalker at his side...

_"All Ventress has ever known is violence, Anakin! We'll never reach her through a lightsaber."_

An image of Obi-Wan and Anakin dueling Count Dooku on board _The Invisible Hand_, as Palpatine watched from the shadows.

_"General Kenobi, you _are_ a bold one."_

Obi-Wan didn't look any further than that page. He didn't need to see what followed. The memory was all too fresh.

"You have given me many fine stories to write," Siddhari said.

"And some not so fine." Obi-Wan was thinking of his failures. The peacekeeping missions that had ended in bloodshed. His inability to save Qui-Gon from the Sith on Naboo. And above all, his disastrous attempt to mentor Anakin.

"No," Siddhari gently disagreed. "Even stories that end in sorrow can bring enlightenment. And as my predecessor used to say, the story never really ends. Beings come and go. Civilizations rise and fall. But always, a new generation rises from the ashes." He reached out, and gently touched Luke's forehead.

"That's why I'm here," Obi-Wan said. He unfastened the sling across his chest and held Luke out to Siddhari. "I wanted to ask you what you see when you look at this boy."

"You've brought me Anakin Skywalker's son." Siddhari took Luke carefully in his arms and inspected him closely. "The Force is strong with him. I have never seen his equal."

"And is he... is he...?"

"You want to know if he is the Son of the Suns."

"Can you tell?" Obi-Wan asked eagerly.

Siddhari hesitated.

"I don't wish to disappoint you..." he said slowly. Obi-Wan felt his heart drop in his chest.

"... the potential is there," Siddhari murmured. "But he will be free to choose his destiny. As Anakin was. You must have faith that he will choose the correct path. Only time will tell."

The disappointment was bitter in the back of Obi-Wan's throat. Sometimes it seemed he had spent his whole life waiting. How many years would he swelter in the deserts of Tatooine before he learned the answer?

_"You must be patient,"_ Qui-Gon had told him, more times than he could count. When Obi-Wan was 13 and waiting for the Jedi Council to take him off probation after he defied orders on Melida/Daan. When he grew older and begged to be allowed to take the Trials. When he had pressed Qui-Gon to teach him the Shaman's ancient secret.

Qui-Gon's advice had usually been good. Eventually, the Council had taken Obi-Wan off probation. The day came that he was Knighted.

But his Master had never taught him the Shaman's secret; the only promise he'd ever broken. Obi-Wan wondered if he would have been ready to learn it by now.

Qui-Gon had learned it here, in this very room. Obi-Wan stared past Siddhari at the curtain drawn across the far end of the room. He vividly remembered seeing the outlines of Qui-Gon and the Shaman through the curtain as young Siddhari led him out of the room, and feeling the powerful waves of the Living Force that emanated from the two of them.

Death had taken the Shaman a decade later, and when Qui-Gon followed her, the secret had been lost forever. The space behind the curtain was empty, save for a blue light that shone through the translucent fabric.

Inexplicably, Obi-Wan felt the hairs on his arms lift, and a curious sensation rippled through his body. That light had not been there when he came into the room.

He looked at Siddhari to see if he had noticed it too. His old friend stood there watching him, a small smile tugging at one corner of his mouth.

"I'm glad you came back, Obi-Wan," Siddhari said. "There's something I've been wanting to show you."

Obi-Wan looked back at the curtain. There were waves of the Living Force radiating from behind it. The blue light pulsed with them. There was a presence back there. A powerful one.

"What is that?" Obi-Wan asked in awe.

"My predecessor," Siddhari said.

Obi-Wan blinked. "I thought she was dead!"

"From a certain point of view," Siddhari said serenely, rocking Luke back and forth gently.

Stunned, Obi-Wan took a step closer to the curtain. And then another.

Now he sensed _two_ presences there. Obi-Wan caught his breath. One of them felt very familiar, but it couldn't be... it couldn't...

He moved a little closer.

"Who is that with her?" he asked Siddhari in a whisper, his eyes never wavering from the light-infused curtain.

"An old friend of yours. He's come to fulfill a promise to you."

Obi-Wan was so close to the curtain now that his breath stirred the fabric. He slowly lifted his hand as though he were in a dream, and touched the edge of the curtain. Then he hesitated, and looked back at Siddhari.

"Go on," his friend said. "This time, you're ready."

Obi-Wan slowly drew the curtain to the side and looked inside.

Recognition dawned as the blue light touched his face, and tears started in his eyes. He took in a shaky breath.

"Oh, Master!"

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	13. Chapter 13

**Eruwaedhier Telemnar:** Agreed. You could say Anakin fulfilled his destiny as the Chosen One in his final hour when he destroyed the Sith once and for all (setting EU aside), but he wouldn't have done it without Luke's help, and it's Luke who ushers in the new Golden Age. You can't have the Chosen One without the Son of Suns, and vice versa. There's a nice balance in that idea, too.

**StoneBlack**: I'm glad you liked it! It's true that Obi-Wan's fate was shaped by Anakin's choices, but I like to think he still "chose" to be the Sky God by choosing to be a good person. He could have gone bad like Anakin did, or left the Clone Wars to retire on some quiet planet, but he did his duty.

**charliebrown1234:** One happy reunion, coming right up! There's no connection to Ahsoka. I haven't seen much of the Clone War cartoons and wouldn't dare try to write her. By the way, _can_ you hug a Force-ghost? Han Solo nearly ran a tauntaun through one! I'll have to think about that...

**Valairy Scot:** You are too right - that's exactly what he does!

_Additional disclaimer: I own no rights to Matthew Stover's "Revenge of the Sith" novelization, from which I used two quotes for this chapter. I get no profit from this fanfic, just fun!_

**Chapter 13**

For 13 long years, Obi-Wan had longed to have Qui-Gon back by his side - to tell him about his latest mission, to ask for his advice, to share his triumphs and his fears with his old Master. And now he found he could not say a word. There were no words. His heart was too full to hold them.

Obi-Wan stepped through the curtain, moving as though in a dream.

_How is this possible?_

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. And yet it was real. Qui-Gon had joined the Force, as beings beyond count had done since the birth of the galaxy, and yet he had done what he should not have been able to do: remain _himself_, even in death. He stood there in the sacred chambers of the Shaman of the Whills, looking exactly as Obi-Wan remembered him, down to the same white tunic and trousers he'd been wearing the day he died, and not a hair out of place.

And yet he was different, too - Obi-Wan saw through a blur of tears that Qui-Gon was translucent, with the pure blue light of the Force streaming through him, and he looked happier than he had been in life, as though the weight of the cares of the galaxy had been lifted from his shoulders.

A thousand questions leapt to Obi-Wan's mind... but he could not find the voice to ask them. It reminded him of the way he felt the day his apprenticeship with Qui-Gon had been formalized when, after the ceremony was over and the two of them had been left alone in the meditation chamber, Obi-Wan had been struck by a sudden shyness and had barely been able to look his new Master in the eye. Overwhelmed that Qui-Gon would choose him, of all the students in the Temple, even though he still struggled with anger and pride... in that moment, young Obi-Wan had done the only thing that occurred to him: he clasped his hands together and lowered his head in a deep and respectful bow to his new Master, and he had not lifted his head until finally Qui-Gon had to ask him to.

And so that was what he did now. With his head bent, all he could see were strands of his hair hanging in front of his eyes. Somehow, it gave him the courage to find his voice at last, though he could not keep it quite steady as he spoke: "Master, I've... missed you... so much..."

"Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said gently, and his baritone voice was exactly as warm as Obi-Wan remembered it. "I wish I could say I've missed you too, but the truth is, I've watched over you every day since I left."

Obi-Wan drew in a shaky breath and looked back up to meet Qui-Gon's blue gaze. "Then why didn't you-" he began to demand-

- and then stopped himself. He remembered.

"But you _did_," Obi-Wan said in wonderment, answering his own question. "You _did _speak to me. There were so many times I thought I could feel your presence... I thought it was just wishful thinking!"

Qui-Gon laughed softly. "I'm relieved to hear that you wished to hear me. Our last days together weren't our best days together, were they?"

"You don't know how much I punished myself for that," Obi-Wan said in a low voice. "For arguing with you about Anakin, for wasting our last mission together by making things so unpleasant-"

"No, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon interrupted. "I should not have dismissed your concerns so lightly. And when I told the Council you were ready to take the Trials, I never meant for it to sound like a dismissal... I've been waiting all this time to ask for your forgiveness."

"No, it wasn't my place to disagree with you about the boy-" Obi-Wan started, but Qui-Gon interrupted again.

"And here we are again, wasting our time together arguing about who was more wrong."

They both laughed. It was the first time Obi-Wan had laughed since- he couldn't remember when. He felt strangely guilty doing it, and yet it was such a relief, too.

A third voice had joined in with their laughter - the merry laugh of the old Shaman, who stood in the midst of a blue glimmer just behind Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan hadn't even noticed here there.

"Oh, dear," he said to her, growing serious again. "I was unpleasant to you, as well, the last time I saw you. So uncivilized."

"And I seem to remember shouting at you that you weren't supposed to be here," the Shaman said, smiling. "I'll forgive you, if you can forgive me. I couldn't have been more wrong. You were in precisely the right place at the right time. Well, young Jedi, what do you think of my little secret?"

"_Little?_ To have the power to return from the netherworld of the Force?" Obi-Wan shook his head in amazement. "I have to admit, I thought your secret would be some revolutionary new way to collect historical data for your journals, or something of that sort. To become one with the Force, and yet retain your identity... it's... it's..."

"Eternal life," Qui-Gon said. "The ultimate goal of the Sith, but they can never achieve it."

"Why not?" Obi-Wan asked.

"If you wish to preserve your _self_, you must first give it up," the Shaman answered. "You must merge your own will with the will of the Force. The Sith seek to conquer the Force; they try to enslave it to serve their own selfish desires. The ability to defy oblivion is a state acquired through compassion, not greed."

"And how... how did you do it?" Obi-Wan asked hesitantly.

The old Shaman laughed lightly. "Ready for your first lesson already, young one? But I think that, like your Master, you do not intend to stay here on Guatama."

Obi-Wan shook his head. "I must go into hiding on Tatooine. I am a marked man. I could never forgive myself if the Empire tracked me here, and discovered your sanctuary." He shuddered to think of the uses the Sith would devise for the Order of the Whills, defenseless and weaponless as they were. Their gift of far-sight could be used to spy on the Empire's enemies, to crush any rebellions before they could gain a foothold. No, the Whills were wise, after all, to remain isolated from the rest of the galaxy. They must be kept hidden. Safe.

"Then I will leave the instructing to your Master," the Shaman said. "I find I am as reluctant to leave Guatama in death, as I was in life." She smiled wryly, and ghosted past Obi-Wan and through the green curtain, where she joined Siddhari in admiring baby Luke. Obi-Wan found himself alone with Qui-Gon behind the curtain.

"Look at you," Qui-Gon said softly. "I always knew you would become a great Jedi Knight - but you managed to exceed my expectations. I'm proud of you."

"How can you say that?" Obi-Wan shook his head. "I didn't fulfill your dying wish. I failed Anakin, and I failed you."

"No, Padawan. I asked you to train Anakin, and you did. You did as well as any teacher could have. I will not have you punishing yourself for the choices he made."

"But it might have been different... if you had taught him yourself."

"You know as well as I do the dangers of asking what might have been." Qui-Gon sighed. "But I _did_ teach him, Obi-Wan. I watched over him like I watched you. I spoke to him through the Force, and I told him all the same things you told him, but he closed his mind to me. He would not hear."

Obi-Wan accepted Qui-Gon's words with a nod. "I only hope Luke will make a different choice when his time comes."

"You are taking him to Tatooine?" Qui-Gon asked.

Obi-Wan nodded. "It's the last place in the galaxy Vader will go. For him, Tatooine holds nothing but memories of enslavement and grief. I believe Luke will be safe there, with his aunt and uncle to care for him."

"Then I will train you during your solitude on Tatooine. If anything should happens to you, you will still be able to guide Luke."

"It won't be solitude, if you're with me," Obi-Wan pointed out.

Qui-Gon smiled. "I must leave you sometimes, to provide training to Yoda as well," he said.

"You, training Yoda?" A ghost of Obi-Wan's boyish grin flickered across his face.

"That amuses you?"

"A little," Obi-Wan admitted.

"You could come and watch." Qui-Gon's eyes twinkled mischievously. From the other side of the curtain, baby Luke began to fuss.

"No, thank you," Obi-Wan said. "Even living in a desert is better than living in a swamp. Fewer insects." He touched the edge of the curtain, and looked back at Qui-Gon. "I'll see you later, then?"

Qui-Gon smiled. "Not later. Soon. And I'll always be close at hand."

Obi-Wan slipped through the curtain and carefully took little Luke from Siddhari's arms and bounced him up and down soothingly. The old Shaman was nowhere to be seen.

"I'm sorry to see you go, Obi-Wan," Siddhari said. "I know I promised you a copy of your story, but as you can see, there are many blank pages left. I still have work to do."

"The rest of my story will not be as exciting as the beginning."

"Perhaps not. But there will be many who will wish to read the complete story of Obi-Wan Kenobi, once the dark days have ended. Especially this young one." Siddhari lightly touched Luke's forehead.

"I don't know if I will be able to return again," Obi-Wan said, securing the baby into the sling once more. "I must go into hiding. If Darth Vader ever finds me... I may not survive a second encounter with him."

"I will see to it that Anakin's children know your story, if I have to bring it to them myself."

Obi-Wan looked at Siddhari in surprise. "But those of your Order never leave Guatama."

"For my old friend, I will make an exception." Siddhari gave Obi-Wan a warm embrace. Luke squirmed between them.

"May the Force be with you, Siddhari."

"May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan. Until we meet again - in this life, or the next."

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	14. Epilogue

**charliebrown1234**: I don't show that moment, but you can definitely assume that's what happens - I couldn't imagine it any other way!

**pronker**: I think I struggled with the world-building more than anything, so I'm glad you liked the end result!

**StoneBlack**: Dorkfish? Ha ha, that's a new one! Thank you, Siddhari is the first major OC character I've written, so that means a lot!

**Obiwan456 and Kelaria**: *bows in gratitude*

**Obi-Qui**: Thank you. DRL kept me from "updating soon," darn it, but here it is, the final installment!

**Epilogue**

_"Darth Vader raised his blood-red lightsaber, but this time, Obi-Wan Kenobi did not lift his weapon to block the blow. He looked to the side, at the young farm boy he had carefully watched over for the last 20 years, although the boy never knew it. The old Jedi smiled tenderly."_

Luke's voice faltered a moment. Young Ben looked at him curiously.

_"Obi-Wan looked back to the terrifying mask of Darth Vader, but he was not afraid. He had learned an ancient secret, one the Sith would never know. Death held no horror for him. _

_"Obi-Wan closed his eyes, and Darth Vader struck him down. _

_"The farm boy cried out in anguish as a tattered Jedi robe fluttered to the floor, empty. A lightsaber bounced to the floor, never again to be lifted by the hand that had wielded it for so long in the defense of innocents._

_"The great warrior known as Obi-Wan Kenobi was gone."_

Luke fell silent, and bowed his head over the pages.

"I _hate_ sad endings," young Ben said with feeling, punctuating his criticism with a suspicious sniff.

Luke was using his left hand, the ungloved one, to rub the tears off his own cheeks. He cleared his throat gruffly and lifted up the book old Siddhari had to brought to him.

"Look at the book, Ben," he said gently. "This isn't the end."

Ben looked. There were still a number of pages left to read.

"How can the story go on, after the hero's dead?" Ben asked.

"That's an interesting question," Luke said with a mysterious smile. "We'll read the rest tomorrow night, and you'll see for yourself." He set the book on the nightstand, and kissed Ben's forehead. "Good night, son."

Luke had just reached the doorway and was reaching up to switch off the light when Ben suddenly sat up in bed.

"Father, do you think Obi-Wan Kenobi was related to Ben Kenobi? The old Jedi you named me after?"

"No," Luke said. He smiled at his son, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he did so. "No, they weren't related. They were the same man."

When Ben was settled into bed, Luke sat down on his own sleep couch and slowly leafed through the pages of the book, lost in thought. He lifted his head in surprise when a knock sounded on the door.

Luke opened the door, and smiled at the green-robed man standing there, his close-cropped hair graying and his shoulders stooped with age. "Come in, Your Grace," Luke said.

The Shaman of the Whills entered the room and looked at the book in Luke's hand. "Well, young Jedi, what do you think of my story?"

"It was wonderful," Luke said with feeling. "My son loved it, too. I can't thank you enough, Siddhari."

"It was my pleasure." Siddhari folded his hands in front of him. "And now, Master Skywalker, are you ready to receive another visitor?"

Luke creased his brow. "Another visitor? Who is it?"

"An old friend. One who has learned the path to immortality."

As he spoke, a powerful tremor swept through the Force, and Luke's eyes widened as he saw a pulsing blue light appear in the room. The light grew until it took the shape of a white-haired man dressed in a flowing brown robe.

Luke recognized him instantly, although his old master had not appeared to him for many years, and felt a rush of pleasure. "Ben!"

"Hello there," Ben said, with a twinkle in his eyes.

Luke shook his head in amazement. "I can't believe it - usually you only come when I'm in danger! What are you doing here?"

Ben raised an eyebrow. "I've come to give you your instruction."

**THE END**

_A/N: A special thanks to all my loyal readers - you've made writing this story more fun than a barrel of monkeys! I look forward to reading your reviews._


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